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THE HOBBY-HORSE 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 



1 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY *r 

ARTHUR W; PINERO 



\ / 

MAP 2 TR92- \> ' 



9 2 G^})/ 



NEW YORK 
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

142 TO 150 WORTH STREET 






71? D* »• 



Copyright, 1892, by 
ARTHUR W. PINERO 

All Rights Reserved 



'i-ytJi 



TROW OIRECTORV 

PRIN T ING AND BOOK BINDING COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY. 



Spencer Jermyn, 

Mrs. Spencer Jermyn, 

Tom Clark, 

Rev. Noel Brice, 

Bertha, 

Pinching, 

Miss Moxon, 



Hewett. 



Mrs. Porcher, 

Shattock, 

Pews, 

Lyman, 

Moulter, 

Mrs. Landon, 

Tiny Landon, 



THE FIRST ACT. 

A Chapter op Philanthropy. 



THE SECOND ACT. 
A Chapter of Sentiment. 



THE THIRD ACT. 
A Chapter of Expiation. 



THE HOBBY-HOESE 

THE FIRST ACT. 

A CHAPTEE OF PHILANTHROPY. 

The scene is the garden and exterior of a picturesque 
old country-house, with gables and porch all over- 
grown ivith flowers, the residence of Mb. Spencee 
Jeemyn. It is a bright May morning. 

Shattock comes cautiously along the garden walk, fol- 
lowed by Pews ; Shattock a bony, ungainly - 
looking man of about forty, with high shoulders, 
rounded back, close-cropped head set forward, and 
a sallow, keen-eyed face ; Pews a snub-nosed, 
red-faced, fat Utile man, and both dressed horsely 
but very shabbily. 

Shattock. 

[Turning sharply upon Pews.] Sssh ! Can't you 
turn off that music ? 

Pews. 

[Panting and wiping his forehead.] No, I cannot 
— if you allood to my breathing a bit heavy. 



2 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Shattock. 

You're a nice broken-winded gentleman to bring 
out on a quiet delicate expedition. Didn't I tell 
you, Edward Pews, that it ain't our book to meet 
the ladies ? Breathe in your 'at, man ; breathe in 
your 'at. 

Pews. 

You knew I was a roarer when you brought me 
here, Samuel. I 'ave been so ever since I got ducked 
at Doncaster in '84. 

Shattock. 

[Crouching on the stejis and looking into the house.] 
There they are — I see 'em, all of 'em — 'aviug their 
morning feed. Mr. Spencer Jermyn is a glancin' at 
the newspaper — a little curious about the prices for 
the Grand Pree apparently. Mrs. Jermyn is a toy- 
ing with a hegg. Oh, you beauty ! Who's the 
other? Oh, Miss Moxon, the lady stayin' in the 
'ouse, makes a bad third. All right — Jermyn'il 
show directly. He said he'd be 'appy to see myself 
and friend this morning at 10 a.m. 

Pews. 

Did he ! Then why the dooce are we sneakin' up 
to his 'ouse, huggin' the rails instead of takin' the 
middle o' the course fair and open ? 

Shattock. 

I'll tell you, Edward — then p'rhaps you'll breathe 
a little peacefuller. You've seen this 'ere Spencer 
Jermyn ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 



Pews. 



At pretty nigh hevery race meeting* for the last 
ten years. I've see him at Lincoln — I've see him at 
Liverpool — I've see him at the Epsom Spring — I've 
see him 'ere at Newmarket — I've see him at the 
Epsom Summer — I've see him 

Shattock. 

Very well, you've see him — that's enough. D'ye 
know the party in question ? 

Pews. 

I can't say as we've ever chummed, but I've heered 
him classed as a generous patron of the turf and a 
good and game thoroughbred Henglish gent. • 

Shattock. 

You've hit it — you've enoomerated Spencer Jer- 
myn's points more than accurate. He's a man wot 
loves the 'orse and all them wot has to do with the 
'orse— he loves racin' and sport and pluck, and he's 
got a open 'and for any broken-down sportsman. 
Some say that hintellectually Mr. Spencer Jermyn 
wouldn't pass the Vet. Well, / ain't going to howl 
about that. If Spencer Jermyn takes a lovin' fancy 
to Samuel Shattock, ex-jockey, ex-trainer, ex-book- 
maker, hex — hex 

Pews. 

Hex-welsher. 

Shattock. 

That's a friendly comment, Edward ! [Looking into 
the house.] Hullo, they're stirrin'. 



TUB I10BBY-H0RSE 



Pews. 



But you 'aven't told me, Sam, why you want to 
fight shy of the women folk. 

Shattock. 

Why ! Because Mr. Spencer Jermyn has gone and 
married a lady who don't know a 'orse from a 'am 
sandwich ; a female with no more lovin' sympathy 
for the Turf and them wot lives by it than — than the 
chaplain of York Prison. 

Pews. 

Hush, drop a wail over the past, Sam. 

Shattock. 

"Always keep out of the way of the ladies, Mr. 
Shattock," says Jermyn to me. " Mrs. Jermyn has 
no eyes for anything but her little ragged urchins." 

Pews. 

What's he mean by that ? 

Shattock. 

Why, he's married a woman with a craze. She's 
a — a — a — a philant'ropist. 

Pews. 
Crikey ! 

Shattock. 

Never 'appy but wot she's picking up dirty little 
boys and girls and takin' them home and washing 
and combing 'em, and giving 'em cake and sermon. 
As if his philant'ropy wasn't as good as her plnlan- 



THE HOBBY-HORSE o 

t'ropy ! As if we didn't want washin' and combin' 
as mucb— ay, more tban tbe dirtiest boys and girls 
in England ! Look out ! [Mrs. Landon, a poor 
widow, comes up the walk, leading Tiny Landon. a 
small boy.] There ! What did I tell you ! Here's 
one of Mrs. Jermyn's little devils, ready to take tbe 
bread out of an honest man's moutb. 

[Shattock steps forward to meet Mrs. Landon.] 

Mrs. Landon. 
I beg your pardon, sir— I want for to see tbe lady, 
Mis. Jermyn. 

Shattock. 

Tall, fair lady ; went down that tbeer avenue about 
twenty minutes ago. Am I correct in wbat I am 
sayin', Mr. Pews ? 

Pews. 
I certainly see a tall, fair lady goin' down tbe ave- 
nue, a carrying a red plusb bag witb a monygram 
on it. 

Mrs. Landon. 

Eh, but sbe told me not to fail to bring my little 
boy this morniDg. I am that disappointed. 

Shattock. 
She was similarly anxious for to see Mr. Pews— I 
'ave brought 'im miles and miles. We're all in the 
same basket, seems to me. 

[Hewett, a groom, comes from the house.] 

Hewett. 
[To Pews and Shattock.] Hullo, what do you 

want? 



6 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Shattock. 

We're a' waitin' for to see Mr. Jermyn, Mr. 
Hewett. Don't hasten him, sir — our time's our own. 

Hewett. 

Oh, good-morning, Mrs. Landon. Mistress said 
I was to take you and Tiny to her room d'rectly you 
came. 

Mas. Landon. 

These gentlemen thought they saw her go out — 
they must have been mistaken. 

Hewett. 

'Taint the first time in their lives they've been 
mistaken, I dare say. Come along o' me. 

[Mrs. Landon follows Hewett up the steps to the 
house.] 

Shattock. 

[Cuffing Tiny, toho runs after his mother.] You 
get shown in, do you — you pushing little cad ! 

[Mr. Jermyn, a smart, dapper little man of forty-five 
or fifty, with a sporting appearance, comes through 
the porch and meets Hewett, Mrs. Landon, and 
Tiny on the steps.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ah, Mrs. Landon, how do you do ? Getting over 
your trouble ? 

Mrs. Landon. 
Slowly, sir. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 7 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Your boy doesn't grow much — put him into a 
stable and make a jockey of him. [Mrs. Landon 
and Tiny go inside with Hewett."] Lord bless me ! 
Another rackety little imp running about the place 
— we're swarming with 'em. Ah, if my scheme 
should by any chance satisfy Diana's philanthropic 
cravings, what a relief it would be ! 

Shattock. 

[Meeting Jermyn as he descends the steps.] Good- 
mornin', Mr. Spencer Jermyn, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ah, Mr. Shattock, you're punctual, I'm glad to see 

Shattock. 

Yes, Mr. Jermyn, sir, and I've ventured for to 
bring with me the other deservin' case I mentioned. 
Mr. Hedward Pews, formerly a boy in John Gor- 
ton's stable — he rode Hysteria for Lord Oscott in 
the Hoaks so fur back as '56 — being suspended 
from riding at Goodwood in '61 on a unjust charge 
of 'orrid language at the post, he took to drink and 
put on flesh rapid. In proof whereof I ask you to 
look at 'im. Since that time he has been various, 
but never lucky. He 

Spencer Jermyn. 

All right — all light. What has he been doing 
lately ? 



8 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Pews. 

Selling tips in envelopes, sir— and doin' poorly, 
my voice not tellin' after the fust hour. 

Spencee Jeemyn. 
Can he refer me to anybody ? 

Shattock. 

[With jeering confidence.'] Can he refer you to 
anybody ! 

Pews. 

Can I refer you to anybody ! Ho ! 

Shattock. 

[Admiringly.] Can you refer him to anybody ! 
[They look uneasily at each other.'] Can he refer you 
to— hem !— well, in a sort of way, Mr. Pews gives 
me as a refryence. 

Spencee Jeemyn. 

Oh — well, I'll make inquiries. All I can say for 
the present is, I don't dislike j^our friend's face. 
[Pews wipes his face carefully ivith a dirty handker- 
chief] And now I had better explain, Mr. Shat- 
tock, why I desired to see you this morning. Sit 
down — don't mind me — sit down. [Shattock and 
Pews sit side by side on a garden bench.] I will walk 
about. I am so excitedly interested in my scheme 
that I really cannot discuss it sitting down. 

Shattock. 
We will hear you out, sir — we will hear you out. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 9 

Pews. 
You're a gentleman, sir — none better. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My scheme is this. Mrs. Jermyn, my wife, is a 
lady of a most charitable disposition. It is my 
fault entirely that I have comparatively little sym- 
pathy with the precise form of her generosity. 
However, that's nothing to do with you, my men. 

Shattock. 
Go on, sir — we're 'earin' you. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mrs. Jermyn, on the other hand, has no feeling 
for anything or anybody connected with the Turf or 
the Stable — no feeling except one of positive distaste. 

Pews. 
Shame ! Shame ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

How dare you employ that ejaculation in refer- 
ence to Mrs. Jermyn, sir ? What do you mean bv 
it, eh? 

Shattock. 

[To Pews.] Now I 'ope you're proud of yourself ! 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Mrs. Jermyn's prejudices are quite beyond not 
only the censure but the comprehension of such as 
ourselves. 



10 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Shattock. 

[To Pews.] Because your face gets flattered you 
go and lose your 'ead ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

But I think, Mr. Shattock, that I have discovered 
a method of blending Mrs. Jermyn's notious of 
philanthropy with a pet plan of my own to benefit 
some of the waifs and strays connected with the 
noble pastime which is more than my hobby, which 
is my existence, 

Shattock. 
Well spoken ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

There is a farm-house of mine which has been 
vacant for a long time, about five miles from here, 
at Shodly Heath — a very commodious, well built 
dwelling. Perhaps you know it ? 

Shattock. 

A 'ouse painted yaller cream color ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

That's it. [Seeing Jermyn take out a cigar, Shat- 
tock and Pews simultaneously produce their clay 
pipes.'] Now my notion is to fit and furnish this 
house substantially and usefully, and to endow it as 
a Home for about twenty decayed jockeys and 
stablemen, men like yourselves, who have outlived 
their chances on the turf and fallen on bad days. 
There, Mr. Shattock, what do you think of that ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 11 

Shattock. 

Tell me, mister — are you hentering us for the 
temperance stakes? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

How dare you put a question like that? Where's 
your gratitude for the bare idea? 

Shattock. 

I was a thinkin' of Mr. Pews— too little is as bad 
as too much for a man like Edward Pews, 

Spencer Jermyn. 

We'll discuss that by and by. The point is, Mr. 
Shattock, can you find twenty men who would be 
willing to lead honest, sober, decent lives ? 

Shattock. 

Well, off hand I shouldn't like for to pledge my- 
self to sich a undertaking. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Men with some good sterling qualities in them 
behind all their faults and weaknesses. 

Shattock. 

Well, you see I dessay I've rather spoilt you by 
showing you me and Mr. Pews fust. However, you 
leave this 'ere to me — and if there is on the face of 
this yer earth twenty honest broken-down sportsmen 
willing for to be kep' free and liberal I'll bring 'em 
to the post fit and fine. 



12 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Thank you — thank you. It's a grand scheme ! I 
long to break it to Mrs. Jermyn — if she takes to it 
why, ha, ha ! who knows, we may see her at Ascot 

yet! 

[Pinching, a pleasant but rather weak-looking young 
man, in riding costume comes up the walk.] 

Pinching. 
How are you, Jermyn ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
My dear Pinching. 

Pinching. 

I'm behind my time — the mare lost a shoe, so I 
had to leave her at Lessingkam and walk on. Are 
these gentlemen two of your Proteges ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[ With pride.] Yes. You're smiling, Pinching — 
don't, my boy, don't ! I can't get you to treat this 
matter with professional earnestness. Er — um — 
Mr. Shattock, this is Mr. Ealph Pinching, of New- 
market — my solicitor. 

[The men bow uncomfortably.] 

Pews. 
Oh, crikey ! 

Shattock. 
[Under his breath.] 'Ere's a element to creep in. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 13 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Now, my men, I am leaving here this morning, 
almost immediately, and it is possible that I shall 
be away for nearly a month. But during my ab- 
sence, Mr. Shattock, you will communicate with Mr. 
Pinching as if he were myself — he has my full in- 
structions. [Hewett comes from the house.] Hew- 
ett, don't forget I go to town by the twelve-fifteen. 
Put Romper in the cart. 

Hewett. 
Yes, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

And give these men something to eat and drink 

Shattock. 

[To Hewett.] Now you've got to show us in. 

Hewett. 
Yes— kitchen. 

Shattock. 
Cad ! 

[Hewett goes toward house with Shattock and 
Pews.] 

Pinching. 

And now, my dear Jermyn, I've something really 
serious to talk to you about. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Good gracious, Pinching ; serious ! 



14 THE B0BBY-1I0RSE 

Pinching. 

Yes — you shall find me your man of business in 
real earnest for a few moments. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Lord bless me, Pinching, you don't mean 

Pinching. 

That I have some news of your boy, Allan ? Yes, 
I think so. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My boy ! my boy ! Get on, sir ! get on ! For 
heaven's sake, don't go to sleep about it. It isn't that 
I'm in a hurry to hear anything of that scamp of a 
boy, but I have to catch the twelve-fifteen — God 
bless him ! [Pinching prod uces a pocket-book.] 

Pinching. 

Now tell me, Jermyn — when did you quarrel and 
part with your son ? I particularly want dates. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Certainly — it was just before the Middle Park 

Plate 

Pinching. 

No, no, please — legally, that is not a perfect date. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Well, it was about six months before my marriage 
to Diana. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 15 

Pinching. 

And you married the present Mrs. Jermyn a little 
over a year ago ; come, that's better. [Turning over 
some papers.] Now, about the time this quarrel oc- 
curred, I find that a young man named Thomas 
Clark shipped himself on board the steamship Pen- 
guin, bound for the Australian ports, as a common 
sailor. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Pooh! On the wrong scent — that wouldn't be 
my boy Allan. 

Pinching. 

This Thomas Clark left some clothes behind him 
at a lodging in the East of London. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Allan wouldn't have done that — on the wrong 
scent, sir. 

Pinching. 

The landlady subsequently sought the advice of 
the Police as to her right to dispose of this property. 
It was ultimately sold, but there exists a memoran- 
dum on the Police books that some articles of ap 
parel belonging to Mr. Thomas Clark were marked 
"A. J." 

Spencer Jermyn. 

That's my boy ! 

Pinching. 

I fancied it might be. 



16 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Fancy ! There's no fancy about it ! You surely 
haven't let the matter drop? My dear Pinching*, 
you are neglecting this business altogether — I could 
have managed it better myself. It's not profes- 
sional ! 

Pinching. 

Pray be calm, Jermyn, and hear me out. 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Excuse me, Pinching. I am much obliged to you 
for your energy in this affair. Go on. 

Pinching. 

It appears that the boy signed articles with the 
owners to make four voyages in the Penguin. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
And did he ? 

Pinching. 
Thomas Clark did — and finally discharged himself 
at the East India Docks about a month ago. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
And where is he now ? 

Pinching. 
That is just what I am trying to find out. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Trying to find out ! Kubbish, sir ! 

Pinching. 
What I mean to find out, if I can. 



THE HOBBT-IIORSE 17 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Taking Pinching's hand.] Thank yon, old fellow ; 
you are a good friend. Bring my boy back to me 
again, Pinching, for two reasons. 

Pinching. 
Two reasons ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Well, in the first place Diana has never seen him 
— and a woman ought to know what her son is like. 
And, secondly, Pinching, in our quarrel the boy was 
right and I was wrong. 

Pinching. 
Dear me ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

It was a serious business. He fancied Medusa for 
the Middle Park Plate and I had a strong liking for 
King Caraway. But he said that King Caraway 
wasn't fit to run without a respirator and that irri- 
tated me, Pinching, and we had hot words and I 
saw him go out at that gate, sir, and we never met 
again. And next day when I watched the racing I 
was still so indignant, Pinching, that I could hardly 
steady my glasses. But the boy was right, God 
bless him ! And I want to tell him what I felt when 
I saw that confounded King Caraway go to pieces 
at the Abingdon Dip, sir, while Medusa, my dear 
boy's fancy, romped in like a ballet- girl ! 

[Miss Moxon, a prettily dressed young lady, appears 
in the porch.'] 



18 TEW 1I0BBT-H0RSE 

Miss Moxon, 
Mr. Pinching. 

Pinching. 
Ob, how do you do, Miss Moxon ? 

Miss Moxon. 

Mrs. Jernryn wants to know if you have break- 
fasted. 

Pinching. 
Yes — thank you. 

Miss Moxon. 

Oh, do come in ! It is almost my last hour in 
Odium House, Mr. Pinching — I'm going away this 
■morning for good. 

Pinching. 

Going away ! No ! 

Miss Moxon. 

[To Jermyn.] "Will you give poor unfortunate me 
a lift to the station to catch the twelve-fifteen, Mr. 
Jermyn ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I'm sorry to assist at your departure, Miss Moxon. 
However, I'll tell Hevvett we'll go over in the car- 
riage. 

[Jermyn leaves them, and directly he is out of 
sight Miss Moxon runs down the steps and 
Pinching takes her hand.'] 

Pinching. 
Going away, Miss Moxon ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 19 

Miss Moxon. 

Yes ; isn't it awful ? And I am so happy here 
with Diana. I feel I shall never be happy again, 
Mr. Pinching— -never, never, never. 

Pinching. 
But why are you going ? 

Miss Moxon. 
[Silting.] It is my duty. 

Pinching. 
[Sitting close beside her.] Duty ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Duty. 

[Jermyn returns quickly.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh. by the bye, Pinching [Pinching and 

Miss Moxon rise guiltily. All three are embarrassed.] 

I just wanted to say— er— urn [Looking at Miss 

Moxon.] Excuse me, Pinching— won't you? 

Pinching. 

Certainly, Jermyn. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Don't tell Mrs. Jermyn this morning of our dis- 
coveries about my boy Allan. 

Pinching. 

Certainly not, if you don't wish it. 



20 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencek Jerbiyn. 

It is rather a sore subject between us ; Diana 
always points to the loss of my boy as one of 
the evil results of horse racing, and as I'm just go- 
ing to divulge my scheme for the Jockeys' Home at 
Shodley Heath, I particularly want her to be in a 
good temper to-day. That's all, Pinching. [Look- 
ing at Miss Moxon.] Excuse my — my awkwardness, 
won't you ? Charming woman, Miss Moxon. Er — 
hem ! I shan't see you again for five minutes, Pinch- 
ing. [Jermyn goes into the house.] 

Miss Moxon. 

[Strolling toward Pinching.] Were you saying 
anything to me, Mr. Pinching, when dear Mr. Jer- 
myn came back ? 

Pinching. 

Oh, yes— why is it specially your duty to run 
away from friends who — who like you so well, Miss 
Moxon ? 

Miss Moxon. 

Why, don't you know that I am a very, very poor 
woman, Mr. Pinching ; that I had nothing-a-year 
settled on me by my parents, who died almost be- 
fore I was born ; and that I have been some sort of 
a governess ever since I could lisp, and shall remain 
one till I am qualified for an almshouse. 

Pinching. 

No — I only know that you were a schoolfellow of 
Mrs. Jermyn's, and that you have been a guest at 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 21 

Odium House for the last three weeks, and that — 

and that 

Miss Moxon. 
Yes? 

Pinching. 

And that my legal visits to Mr. Jermyn have lately 
been very protracted. 

Miss Moxon. 

Thank you ! You're the only lawyer I've ever 
known — as well as this. 

Pinching. 

You are the only governess I have ever known as 
well as this. 

Miss Moxon. 

I never imagined a lawyer was so young. 

Pinching. 

Oh, yes — it's only in books that we suffer from 
chronic old age. 

Miss Moxon. 

After to-day, when I am far, far away from Odium 
House, I shall always thiuk pleasantly of a lawyer. 

Pinching. 
And I shall always think pleasantly of a governess. 

Miss Moxon. 
Of governesses in general, do you mean — or a 
governess ? 



22 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Pinching. 



A governess. 



Miss Moxon. 



governess ? 



[Looking away.] Then do you know any other 
Pinching. 
Miss Moxon. 



No! 
Oh! 



[Mrs. Jermyn, a stately, handsome woman of about 
thirty, appears at the top of the steps leading Tiny 
Landon by the hand.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Won't you come into the house, Mr. Pinching? 
Constance, dear, you said you would look after Mr. 
Pinching. 

Miss Moxon. 

I am doing so, Diana. 

[Mrs. Jermyn and Tiny come down the steps as 

Miss Moxon and Pinching ascend.] 

Pinching. 

Thank you, Mrs. Jermyn. Am I too old to com- 
pete with this young gentleman for a permanent lo- 
cation at Odium House ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ah, Mr. Pinching, don't you be unsympathetic. I 
fear my husband's indifference is contagious. Go 
in, please — I am looking for Mr. Jermyn. [Miss 



THE HOBBY-HOUSE 23 

Moxon and Pinching go into the house. Mrs. 
Jermyn goes down upon her knees before the child, 
smoothing his hair and polishing his face with her 
handkerchief] There, my dear little fellow — the 
vision of you ought to soften any man's heart. 
Where is Spencer? Ah, Tiny — if you could but 
realize it — the success of a grand, a beautiful 
scheme depends upon the impression you make 
upon Mr. Jermyn. 

Tiny Landon. 

[Trying to avoid the pocket-handkerchief] Oh, 
don't ! 

[Jermyn enters and contemplates Mrs. Jermyn and the 
child with annoyance.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

There's one of those beastly little boys. Diana, 
my darling, I'm afraid I shall have to say good-by 
very soon. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And when am I to see you again, Spencer ? 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Hem ! Well, Diana, as you know, I am going to 
Paris to night for the Auteuil Steeplechase. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I shall remain over there till after the Grand Prix. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Uo-h! 



21 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

And then, my dear, I suppose I had better 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Return Lome, Spencer ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Well, Diana, I was about to say that I had better 
then — er — um — push on to Ascot. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And have you been as precise in your arrange- 
ments for my occupation, Spencer? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Certainly — certainly— I have thought a great deal 
about that. In fact, I — I — that is — well, my dar- 
ling, I understood that old Mrs. Hetherington had 
been pressing about your staying in Hans Place. 
It is the London season, you know. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
There can be no season anywhere for a wife with- 
out her husband. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
My dear Diana, I am delighted to hear you say 
that. I do leave you a great deal — I am always 
flying here, there, and everywhere. It is wrong — it 
is damnably wrong ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Holding her hands over Tiny's ears.] Spencer, 
the child ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 25 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ugh ! I beg your pardon, Diana — but confound 
that ugly child ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, no ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I repeat, it is wrong that I should go about in 
this way alone. Therefore let us remedy it 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Willingly. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ah, that's right, my darling. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

But I fear, Spencer, that you overestimate your 
powers of resolve in thinking that you can forego 
those dreadful race-meetings. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear Diana, I don't suggest that. I was 
about to propose that you accompany me. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Spencer ! Pray respect me a little ! 

[Tiny sits at the foot of a tree with a book."] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Husbands and wives are seen together at these 
places. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

What grade of wife ? 



26 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

What grade of wife ! Why, the— the— the or- 
dinary sort of married wife. 

Mrs. Jermyn, 

Then I am not the ordinary sort of wife. I con- 
fess I may possess one faculty less than other wom- 
en — that faculty is The Stable, the Stable in all its 
bearings and influences, public and private. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Diana, this is simple prejudice ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

What is a stable— your own stable, for which you 
often leave me, to sit hour after hour smoking pipes 
■with Hewett and Gibbs and the boy Dixon ? It is 
the least comfortable part of our premises, where 
common men are always shouting " Get back," or 
" Come over," and carrying about pails of water I 

Spencer Jermyn. 
It isn't the stable, Diana — it's the horses, the 
noble, intelligent horses. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
The only use you find for them is to drag you or 
carry you from one place to another. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Don't they do it well ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Certainly — then let it end there. When a train 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 27 

does the same tiling in an eighth of the time you 
don't pat the steam-engine and smoke pipes with 
the railway directors. And then, these dreadful 
festivals called The Kaces — the races, where you 
put the very animal you profess to respect and ad- 
mire to a speed it was never meant to attain, and 
where your jockey lashes and wounds the beast he 
rides because the poor thing is too fragile to " make 
the pace," or too intelligent to risk breaking a 
blood-vessel. The Rices ! A mere Bacchanel of 
vulgarity and depravity, whose vice sinks into a 
man until his very tongue becomes furred with it 
and he can speak only in the shibboleth of the Bet- 
ting King. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear, Sport is the natural wear of man, like 
his coat and trousers — it is perfectly becoming that 
a woman should not adopt the one or the other. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Spencer I 

Spencer Jermyn. 

The instinct of Sport is born in us. In all prob- 
ability Adam had a gun license — and as there were 
horses in Eden there you have the origin of Ascot. 
It was the presence of Eve which made it a ladies' 
meeting. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Hush, Spencer— the child I 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Kacing is my hobby — my weakness, if you like. 



28 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Bless my soul and body, you have a hobby which is 
a weakness I 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And pray what is that, Spencer ? 
Spencer Jermyn. 

[Pointing to Tiny.] There's an animated fraction 
of it over there. There are four or five more of 
them stabled — I beg your pardon, Diana — domi- 
ciled in our house at this moment. I don't bring 
my horses indoors. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

A few local orphans happen to be occupying the 
nursery. You know — you must be aware — that 
we have no other use for the nursery. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear Diana, if we are to argue let us argue re- 
spectfully and fairly ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I admit, Spencer, that lam absorbingly interested 
in little boys. To wander freely through the courts 
and alleys of the most wretched districts of London, 
finding small human treasures amongst the flot- 
sam and jetsam of the great metropolis, is the fur- 
thermost ambition my mind can grasp. [Coaxing- 
ly.] Promise me, Spencer, promise me that when 
the summer is gone and the chill misery of the wet 
winter is upon us, that you will spend a day with 
me in Poplar ? 



THE UOBBF-IIORSE 29 

Spencer Jermyn. 
No, Diana, certainly not — any day in Bond 

Street 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ob, you are odious ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Our own parish of Over-Lessingharn contains 
enough poverty to satisfy any moderate philanthro- 
pist ; do what you like here. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Spencer! You mean that? You give me per- 
mission to do what I please in Lessingham for the 
welfare of our poor people ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Certainly, my darling — and I was about to tell 
you of an idea of mine for enlarging your scheme of 
operations. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, you dear old darling ! Sit down there ! And 
I'll sit at your feet as I used to before we — before 

we 

Spencer Jermyn; 

Before we were philanthropists. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Before we were married. And I'll give you back 
your old nick-name of " Nettles." 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Thank you, Diana. 



30 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Pinching his chin.] Good-humored, irritable, 
irritating old Nettles ! And I'll tell you all about 
the great big plan I've had in my poor anxious head 
for weeks, and weeks, and weeks. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Do, my darling— and then you shall hear my 
proposition, which I fancy 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Hush, Nettles, dear ; you do rattle on so. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I beg your pardon, my darling. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Nettles, dear. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Affectionately.] Yes, Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I don't believe we shall ever get a tenant for that 
farm-house at Shodly Heath. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Eh? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It has been vacant so long— why should we not 
ourselves turn it to account. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Well now, that's a little strange— the same notion 
had already struck me. 



THE IIOBBY-IIORSE 31 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, you dear old Nettles ! I know ! Nettles lias 
been having what he calls "a good time of it" at 
that awful Epsom. And yet I'm not augry with 
him. Well then, dear, this is my plan— the chil- 
dren are in the way at Odium House — in your way, 
I mean. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

They certainly are. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And when they all have the whooping cough it 
will be distressing to Nettle's ear. Now, why 
shouldn't we furnish the Shodly Heath farm 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Diana ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Turn Mrs. Clegg, our old housekeeper, into a 
sort of Matron, and make the. farm-house a Eefuge 
for thirty or forty of my little waifs ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear Diana, to a very great extent my plan is 
yours, 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I had already determined to furnish the Farm for 
benevolent purposes 



32 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Mes. Jeemyn. 

Tiny— Tiny Landon ! Come here ! 

[The child runs across to her ; she wipes his 
nose.] 

Mrs. Jeemyn. 

Oh ! you precious little charge ! Tiny, kiss that 
gentleman, and make, oh ! so much of him ! 

[She places the child on Jermyn's knee ; he strug- 
gles and throws Tiny onto the grass.] 

Spencee Jeemyn. 

Diana, you will not let me explain. I certainly 
have arranged that the Farm at Shoclly shall be a 
Home or Refuge — but, pardon me, Diana, not, not 
for little boys. 

Mrs. Jeemyn. 
What ! Not— for— little— boys ? 

Spencee Jeemyn. 
No, Diana. 

Mes. Jeemyn. 

For little girls? 

Spencee Jeemyn. 
No, Diana. 

Mes. Jeemyn. 

For whom then is Shodly to be a shelter ? 

Spencee Jeemyn. 

I thought it would satisfy and delight you, Diana 
— twenty decayed jockeys. 



TUB HOBBY-HORSE 33 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

[Shattock and Pews lounge along with pipes in their 
mouths.] 

Shattock. 
[To Pews.] 'Ats off— the duchess ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Are these two of them ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Samuel Shattock— a friend of his. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
They are indeed decayed. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Diana, remember they were — both of them — little 
boys once. 

[Pinching and Miss Moxon, talking earnestly, come 
out of 'the house.'] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Angrily to Shattock and Pews.] Do try to make 
a favorable impression upon the ladies, please ! 
Put those pipes away. 

[They touch their hats and tap the contents of 
their pipes against the heels of their boots.] 

Miss Moxon. 
[Quietly to Mrs. Jermyn.] Diana, I'm almost a 
happy woman. 



34 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I'm quite a wretched oue. 

Miss Moxon. 

I really think Ralph Pinching is in love with me. 
[Miss Moxon walks away ecstatically, Pinching 
looking after her.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh, Pinching, I want you to enter into ray scheme 
with Mrs. Jermyn. [Quietly.] Be sanguine about 
it. [Pinching pays no attention.] Pinching ! 

Pinching. 

Eh? Oh, yes. [Taking Jermin's arm.] Jermyn, 
Miss Moxon's father was a captain in the Fourteenth 
Lancers. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Yes, yes, my boy. [Pinching joins Miss Moxon 
and begins talking earnestly.'] I wish to goodness 
Pinching would be more professional ! Pinching, 
Pinching, my boy ! Mrs. Jermyn wants to hear 
your notions about the Home. 

Pinching. 

[Carelessly.] Eh? Oh, yes — great fun. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Pinching, I'll claim your attention for a few 
minutes, please. 

Pinching. 
Certainly. 



THE nOBBY-nOUSE ob 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Pointing to a rustic table.] There are pen, ink, 
and paper. [Pinching whispers to Miss Moxon, then 
seats himself at the table. She takes a chair by his 
side and they continue talking.] Diana, pray sit 
down. 

[As she is about to sit Shattock hurries forward 
and dusts the seat with his handkerchief] 

Shattock. 

One moment, lady — there, lady. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Shrinking from him.] Thank you! 

[She sits with Tiny by lier side.] 

Shattock. 

The more I look at you, lady, the more I see the 
likeness to my poor missus. [Pointing to Mrs. 
Jermyn.] Do you catch it, Edward ? 

Pews. 

Striking — to your fast missus. 

Shattock. 

What do you mean, goin' on like that ? 

Pews. 

I mean the missus you had when I fust knew you, 
Sam. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Hush, hush, hush ! Diana, my dear, I want you 
to understand — and so does Mr. Pinching. [To 



36 ' THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Pinching, who is engaged with Miss Moxon.] Pinch- 
ing ! that all the thoughtfulness, all the charity of 
this notion has been animated by your beautiful, 
your magnificent example in dealing with little 
boys. That child is tearing your gown, Diana ; 
box his ears — box his ears ! But, Diana, as Pinch- 
ing aptly reminds us — Pinching, please ! — as Pinch- 
ing reminds us, the world is not exclusively peopled 
with little boys. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Is it peopled with anything more innocent, more 
precious than little boys ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Hem ! No, my dear — but you oughtn't to con- 
centrate innocence on Shodly Heath ; you ought to 
diffuse it. Now, men like Mr. Shattock — step a 
little forward, Shattock ; my wife can't see you well 
— men like Mr. Shattock are victims of lost oppor- 
tunities. 

Shattock. 
True, lady. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Shattock was once a jockey of considerable 
promise. 

Shattock. 

I was brought low, lady, by being got at by the 
wealthy and unscrup'lous. Whenever I had a good 
mount, lady, and stood a chance of being in the one- 
two-three, I was always got at, lady. Examine the 
knuckle muscles of that 'and, lady. [Mrs. Jermyn 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 37 

shrinks back.] You may take my 'and in yours, lady. 
That 'and is developed through pullin'— pullin' 'ard. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
What do you mean, man? 

Shattock. 

Pullin' a 'orse's 'ead when he was a' doin' too well, 
lady — ridin' for to lose. Ah, lad}', there's many a 
good 'orse wot Sam Shattock has rode wot had tooth- 
ache in his back teeth for years followin'. And see 
the hend of it ! Those there 'orses have come to 
cabs and me to a 'oine on Shodly 'Eath. And it's a 
moral lesson, I say, and proud I am to preach it. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

You see, Diana, we have found some good here, I 
venture to think. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

At least you have developed an extraordinary talent 
for discovery. I wonder how it will strike Mr. Pilk- 
ington, the vicar. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh, I've a fine plan for managing Pilkington. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Have you ? His poor wife would be glad to know 
it. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I shall conciliate Pilkington by appointing a sal- 
aried warden. 



38 THE HOBBY-BOUSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Not a clergyman ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Certainly. 

Pews. 

[To himself. \ Oh, crikey ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
A young liberal-minded sporting parson* 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Impatiently.] Ok ! 

Shattock. 

Here, mister ! I sha'n't never get no twenty men 
to the post if a parson's going to hold the flag ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Silence 1 I have never met so much senseless op- 
position I 

Shattock. 

Here, mister — — 



Spencer Jermyn. 

Shattock and Pew r s, you can go ! 

Shattock. 

[To Mrs. Jermyn.] Speak for us, lady— don't let 
'im get his 'ead in this 'ere. Pull 'im, lady, pull J im 1 
Oh ! here's another element crep' in ! 

[Shattock and Pews take their leave.] 



THE BOBBY -HORSE 39 

Spencer Jermyn. 

One would think I was a little boy— no, by Jove, 
I should be better treated if I were. Pinching ! Mr. 
Pinching ! Miss Moxon, please — really I 

Pinching. 

[Snatching up a pen and arranging a sheet of paper.] 
I'm waiting for you, Jermyn, 

Spencer Jermyn. 
The advertisement for the clerical papers. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ha ! [She sends Tiny away.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Dictating.] " Shodly Heath Home." 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! After all my plans ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Resuming.] rt Opportunity for a young church- 
man in sympathy with our national sports and pas- 
times." 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

There is no such man in existence ! 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Then there ought to be ! " The founder "— [Miss 
Moxon and Perching are talking again.] Pinching — ■ 
Miss Moxon — upon my word, I— " The founder de- 



40 TIIE HOBBY-HORSE 

sires the co-operation, as warden, of an open-minded, 
unprej udiced " 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Ha ! ha ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Pinching, will you oblige me by following me 
into the house with your papers. Diana, your be- 
havior pains and vexes me ! 

[He ascends the steps and disappears through the 
porch. Pinching follows with the writing ma- 
terials.] 

Miss Moxon. 

[Following Pinching.] Is this then to be our 
good- by ? 

Pinching. 

I'm very sorry to have to run away. You won't 
think me rude, will you ? Do leave your address. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[Returning.] Mr. Pinching ! 

Pinching. 

[To Miss Moxon.] Excuse me ! 

[He follows Jermyn hastily into the house.] 

Miss Moxon. 

Leave my address ! What an end to everything ! 
Leave my address ! It's abominable ! One would 
think Mr. Jermyn did it on purpose to spoil my 
prospects ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 41 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Mr. Jermyn would do anything to spoil anybody's 
prospects — mine particularly. 

Miss Moxon. 

I ask, how is it possible for a woman to get mar- 
ried? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Would it were not possible ! A woman's only 
chance of happiness is in remaining single. 

Miss Moxon. 

I quite agree with you ; but I shouldn't mind 
being wretched with Mr. Pinching. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I can't talk to you about Mr. Pinching, Constance ; 
I can't talk or think of anything but the blow which 
has fallen upon me. 

Miss Moxon. 

Don't consider me unsympathetic, Diana, but 
I can't talk to you about your blow. To think 
that he sat upon this very seat and with the words, 
" Constance, my darling," in his heart was set to 
draw up an advertisement ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

To think that this is the end of all my dreams for 
the last few weeks, day and night ! This is the end 
of my pleasant picture of forty babbling babies roll- 
ing upon the grass at Shodly, filling the diamond 



42 THE HOBBY-IIOIISE 

casements of the farm-house with their fresh, ruddy 
faces, or making its old rooms ring with the rattle 
of their metal spoons ! Oh ! 

Miss Moxon. 

At the very moment of my life when lam not get- 
ting younger ! At the very instant I am starting to 
London, to a nasty humiliating situation ! It's not 
giving him a chance, poor fellow ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

My little boys ! My poor little boys I 

Miss Moxon. 

But this is a grown-up man ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ah, you don't worship little children. 

Miss Moxon. 

I could — I want to — but not so much other peo- 
ple's. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

The home I could make for them ! 

Miss Moxon. 

The home I could make for him ! [Sitting distract- 
edly upon the steps.] Oh, let people come and 
trample on me — I don't care. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Constance, dear, don't — Mr. Pinching may write 
to you. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 43 

Miss Moxon. 

No — lie's a lawyer. He naturally wouldn't com- 
mit liis views to paper. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Then why not delay your journey to London ? 

Miss Moxon. 

That's impossible. I gave my word a month ago 
that I would go to Mr. Brice this week at latest, and 
to-day is the last day of the week, and the twelve- 
fifteen is the only train to get me there by tea-time. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Mr. Brice ! Who and what is Mr. Brice ? 

Miss Moxon. 

I've never seen him ; he is the curate of the very 
poorest parish in London — St. Jacob's-in-the-East ; 
that's all I know. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Ecstatically. 1 The poorest parish in London ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Mr. Brice has met with some accident and is going 
away for a holiday, and I am to look after his niece 
in his absence and help with the horrid district vis- 



iting. 



Mrs. Jermyn. 



Help with the horrid district visiting! Oh, how 
glorious ! how beautiful ! 



44 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Miss Moxon. 
How hateful ! how odious ! 

Mes. Jermyn. 

To you comes the opportunity that is denied to 
me and you despise it. St. Jacob's-in-the-East ! 
The East, the very Mecca of the pilgrimage I have 
dreamed of ! Oh, if I could but be in your place ! 



Diana ! 
Well? 



Miss Moxon. 
Mrs. Jermyn. 



Miss Moxon. 
Diana ! Would you like to be in my place really ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Constance ! 

Miss Moxon. 

This Mr. Brice doesn't know me, has never seen 
me. I answered his advertisement in the Sera- 
phim when I was in London and he didn't even 
trouble to take up my references. He expects a 
Miss Moxon to-day not later than four o'clock ; that's 
all. If you desperately wish it, why shouldn't you 
be Miss Moxon for two or three weeks ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh ! Mr. Jermyn would never allow it. 

Miss Moxon. 

He will not be here. When he returns, you have 
been visiting : there's the explanation. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 45 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
The children in the nursery ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Leave me to look after the little darlings. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, Connie, I dare not play such a trick ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Ah, when you were courting I helped you ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Besides, you forget everything ; how can I travel 
to town in the train with Spencer? 

Miss Moxon. 

I never thought of that. Oh, Ralph, Balph, why 
didn't you speak when you had the opportunity ! I 
know ! Di ! I can get you to town by the twelve- 
fifteen. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Be quiet, Constance. Who would take me to the 
station? 

Miss Moxon. 

Your husband ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

He would know I'm not going visiting without 
any luggage ! 

Miss Moxon. 

He shan't know you're going to town to-day at all. 



40 THE IlOBBY-lIOllSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
You're quite mad, Constance. 
Miss Moxon. 

Never was saner in my life. 

[The voices of Jermyn and Pinching are heard 
within.} 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[In the house.] Make a careful copy of it, Pinch- 
ing. 

Miss Moxon. 

Your husband and my Pinching ! Go indoors 
and wait till I come. 

[Pinching and Jermyn come from the house, the lat- 
ter d7r,ssedfor travelling.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To Miss Moxon.] Constance, mind! I can't — I 
won't. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Good-by, Diana ! I feel sure you will have 
grown to like my plans for the Shodly Heath Home 
by the time I get back. We — we part affectionately 
I hope, Diana ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Certainly, Spencer. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Good-by, dear! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Good-by ! [They shake hands.] 



THE IIOBBY-HORSE 47 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[With assumed heartiness.'] Good-by, my darling ! 
Don't sit in any draughts. Good-by ! 

[Mrs. Jermyn turns away.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear Miss Moxon, you will never be ready to 
drive with me to the station. 

Miss Moxon. 

Oh, thank you, Mr. Jermyn, but my arrangements 
are altered— Diana has persuaded me not to go to- 
day. „ 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[In an undertone.] Constance ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I'm very glad. 

Miss Moxon. 

But there is somebody I want you to take with 

you to the station ; not in the carriage, of course 

let her ride on the box with Gibbs. Will you ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Certainly. Who is it ? 

Miss Moxon. 

Poor Mrs. Landon, who is obliged to go to Lon- 
don on business. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Under her breath.] Oh ! 

[She runs into the house. ] 



43 THE HOBBY-HOUSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Diana's run away ! Ah ! poor Diana. 

Miss Moxon. 
I'll go after her. 

[She follows Mrs. Jermyn into the house.] 

Pinching. 

You'll telegraph to me, Jermyn, from time to 
time in case I should want to get at you suddenly, 
won't you ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Yes ; but, Pinching, do you know that I've half a 
mind to let the Steeplechase and the Grand Prix go 
to the devil and stop at home ? Diana — disap- 
pointed, poor girl ; and lonely, eh, Pinching ? 

Pinching. 

Well, Miss Moxon remains a little longer, and 
then there are the children. 

Spencer Jermyn. • 

That's true. Confound those children ! 

[Hewett enters.'] 
Hewett. 
Gibbs has taken the carriage round, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

All right. Tell them I'm waiting. [Hewett 
goes into the house.] Goocl-by, PinchiDg. It 
doesn't strike you that I am a bad husband to 
Diana, does it ? A brute — does it, Pinching, eh ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 49 

Pinching. 
My dear Jermyn ! Don't think of such a thing. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Poor Diana. 

[Hewett comes out of the house carrying a travelling 
bag and rug.'] 

Hewett. 
Have to look sharp to catch the twelve-fifteen, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Of course — of course. Where is that Mrs. Lan- 
don ? Mrs. Landon ! Mrs. Landon ! 

[Miss Moxon enters from the house, followed by Mrs. 
Jermyn in Mrs. Landon's black shawl and bonnet 
and veil.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Testily."] Come along, Mrs. Landon, come along. 

[Turning to Pinching.] Remember, Pinching 

[He speaks in an undertone to Pinching.] 

Miss Moxon. 

[To Mrs. Jermyn, giving her an envelope.] The Rev- 
erend Noel Brice, Number Eight Pelican Place, Great 
Raggatt Street, East. I'll send your luggage off to- 
night. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

But where's Diana ? Surely she'll walk with me 
to the gate ? 



50 THE HOBBY-MOUSE 

Miss Moxon. 
Oh— I— she 



Spencer Jermyn. 

I won't leave her like this. Confound the train ! 
I'll go back and kiss her ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Ah ! Mr. Jermyn, she's in the nursery with the 
boys. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh, the deuce ! Say I left my love. Look sharp, 
Hewett ! 

[Jermyn goes away, followed by Hewett, Mrs. 
Jermyn hurrying afterward. Pinching detains 
Miss Moxon. ] 

Pinching. 

Miss Moxon, I shall be here— on business — to- 
morrow at eleven o'clock. May I see you ? 

Miss Moxon. 

[About to follow Mrs. Jermyn.] Oh, indeed you 
may, Mr. Pinching. 

Pinching. 

I wish to ask you a question which concerns my 

happiness. I— I What's the matter ? 

[Miss Moxon gives a slight scream and waves her 
hands toward the house as if to keep someone 
from coming oid.~\ 



THE HOBBY- HORSE 51 

Miss Moxon. 

No, no — not yet ! 

[Mrs. Landon, loithout a bonnet or shawl, runs from 
the house looking about her.] 

Pinching. 
Mrs. Landon ! 

Mrs. Landon. 

"Where's my boy ? I can't find my Tiny any- 
where. [She hurries away.] 

Pinching. 

Good gracious ! Isn't that "Widow Landon ? 
Why, Jermyn thinks she's riding on the box-seat 
Jermyn ! 

Miss Moxon. 

[Obstructing his way.] No, no, Mr. Pinching; 

don't, don't ! 

Pinching. 

[Trying to pass her.] Excuse me, Miss Moxon ; 
Jermyn ought to know of this ! Jermyn ! 

f He passes Miss Moxon ; she clings to him.] 

Miss Moxon. 
No, no, Mi*. Pinching ! I— I'll tell you something. 

Pinching. 
I'll be back in a moment. 



52 THE HOBBY- HOUSE 

Miss Moxon. 

No, you mustn't! What shall I do? Mr. Pinch- 
ing ! I — I — I love you, Mr. Pinching ! 

Pinching. 

Oh, my dear Miss Moxon ! 

[They sit cosily together on the garden seat] 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



THE SECOND ACT. 

A CHAPTER OF SENTIMENT. 

The scene is two rather commonly furnished sitting- 
rooms, separated by folding-doors, in a dull, som- 
bre lodging-house in the East End of London. 
Through the back windows is seen a large gloomy 
church. It is the dwelling-place of the Rev. Noel 
Brice. 

The Rev. Noel Brice, a pale, careworn-looking young 
man, is writing at a table, with his wrist bound up, 
while his niece, Bertha, a pretty girl of about six- 
teen, is seen through the folding-doors making tea 
in the further room. 

Noel Brice. 

[As he writes.] " Now the question you must ask 
yourselves is, What is philanthropy? Because if 
it be not a mere nickname for some crazy idiosyn- 
crasy of the rich there is no reason why you poor 
people should not be true philanthropists." [He leans 
back ivearily.] How this wretched wrist throbs, to 
be sure. 

[Bertha comes from the further room,] 



54 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Bertha. 

Uncle Noel, isn't Tom — isn't Mr. Clark coming 
down-stairs to drink tea with us this evening ? 

Noel Brice. 

[Resuming writwg.~\ I don't know, Bertha, dear. 
We can't expect the boy to be always gossiping here. 

Beetha. 

[To herself.'] But he said my tea was the best in 
the world. It doesn't sound like a thing a man would 
say if he didn't mean it. 

Bertha. 

How many sermons for Sunday, Uncle Noel ? 

Noel Brice. 

Two. Dr. Porcher is too unwell to preach. 

Bertha. 

Which are you working at now ? 

Noel Brice. 
The second. 

Bertha. 

Oh, then you're nearly finished. 

Noel Brice. 

No, dear — I always begin with the second. 

Bertha. 

Best your hand a little while and let me be your 
amanuensis. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 55 

Noel Brice. 

No, thank you, ladybird, I'll wait till Miss Moxon 
comes in. 

Bertha. 

[7b herself.'] He never lets me help him, and I'm 
his niece. Why does he like dictating to Miss Moxon 
and not to me ? He has only known her about nine 
or ten days and she is no relation at all. 

[Mrs. Jermyn enters in walking costume.'] 

Bertha. 

Here's Miss Moxon, NoeL 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Kissing Bertha.] Have I been out a very long 
time ? 

Noel Brice. 

It seems so. Where have you been doing good 
this afternoon ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Nowhere. I have been attempting to visit Tyke's 
Court. 

Noel Brice. 
Not alone ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No. I met the young gentleman who lodges up- 
stairs, Mr. Clark, and he went with me. 

Bertha. 
[2b herself.] My Tom. 



5G THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Noel Beice. 
And what is your opinion of Tyke's Court ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It is an unsavory locality, which will see me no 
more. I cry beaten, Mr. Brice — I have failed again 
to-day. 

Noel Brice. 

Failed — in what, Miss Moxon ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Failed to come up to my own aspirations. For 
days and days I have peered in at the opening of 
Tyke's Court and felt it my duty to tread a path 
through its decomposed cabbage-leaves. I have 
made innumerable cowardly excuses — one day I 
have not felt well ; another, I had left my camphor 
at home, and so on. This afternoon I plunged. 
Oh ! the horror of it ! " Are you going to faint ? " 
Mr. Clark asked me. "I think so," I whispered ; 
" get me out — only get me out ! " He got me out, 
and I sat down in a chemist's. 

Noel Brice. 
Ah, visiting Tyke's Court is man's work. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No, not even man's work. Tyke's Court ought to 
be visited and consoled by machinery. Oh, the 
men and the women ! I don't know which were 
which, but Mr, Clark assures me I saw both. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 57 

Bertha. 

Didn't you discover any children ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Mr. Clark said I did. There were some objects 
smaller than others — those, I understand, were the 
children. 

Bertha. 

When you first came to us, Miss Moxon, you 
were going to fondle all the little ones in our parish. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, so I would ! So I would, to-morrow — now — 
if somebody would only wash them ! 

Noel Brice. 

{Writing again.] Ah, we shall get them washed 
in time. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

In time ! [To herself.'} And I'm going home in a 
few days. 

Bertha. 

There's a letter for you, Miss Moxon, on the 

mantelpiece. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Rising and taking the letter.] Oh, thank you. 
Bertha. 

[Quietly to her.] Did Mr. Clark happen to say 
lie was coming downstairs this evening — to see 
Uncle Noel ? 



58 THE HOBBY-HOUSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes, he is coming — [Kissing her.'] to see Uncle 
Noel. 

[Bertha tuns into the further room and goes out, 
Mrs. Jermyn opens her letter.'] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself.] From Constance ! Her letters mate 
me tremble. [Reading*] " Dear Di. I grow more 
horribly nervous about our escapade every day. I 
get absolutely no consolation from Mr. Pinching. 
Of course, after his discovery of Mrs. Landon, I was 
forced to admit that you had gone away on a Philan- 
thropic Mission ; but I refused to disclose your 
whereabouts, and his kisses are but on the brow." 
Poor Constance ; for my sake ! " The servants gos- 
siped so at your sudden disappearance that I thought 
it best to tip them lavishly all round — therefore, 
Mrs. Clegg, the housekeeper, has your new Indian 
shawl. No news of Mr. Jermyn beyond the Paris 
letter which I sent you, but Mr. Pinching went to 
London yesterday, and I can't get rid of the impres- 
sion that he has an appointment with your hus- 
band in town." Oh ! how near ; perhaps this very 
day, too ! " Now, if Mr. Jermyn should return here 
prematurely whataw I to say ? I think I shall feign 
madness and babble incoherently. Dear Diana, do 
come home ! The blot which follows is a tear. 
Your engagement — I mean my engagement — I mean 
our engagement with Mr. Brice was merely as com- 
panion to his niece during his holiday. "When do 
you expect him back ? " [Looking at Noel.] When 
do I expect him back ? He won't start, poor fel- 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 59 

low ! " Get him home by all means ; no man, no 
curate at any rate, ever needs more than ten days' 
rest, and you have been absent that time from your 
distracted — Constance Moxon. P.S. — I pulled a gray 
hair from my head this morning. N.B. — About 
a dozen awful men have taken up their abode at 
Shodly Heath Farm. We close all our shutters 
now." [Putting the letter in her pocket.] Oh, yes, I 
must extricate myself from this predicament to-mor- 
row — the next day, at latest. What should keep 
me at St. Jacob's when I have failed so miserably in 
the work I thought my true mission ? [Bertha re- 
turns to the inner room and busies herself with the 
tea-things.] But why hasn't Mr. Brice gone for his 
holiday ? I can't make that out at all. [Noel is 
thinking, pen in hand ; she approaches the writing- 
table.] Mr. Brice. 

Noel Brice. 
[Starting.] Miss Moxon. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Mr. Brice, have you forgotten why you engaged 
me — er — why you engaged a companion for your 
niece ? 

Noel Brice. 

No — let me see. I wanted a lady to do some of 
the easy visiting and to keep Bertha company while 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

While you were absent from London on your 
holiday. 



60 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Noel Brice. 
Oh, yes — I was going away, wasn't I ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
You were — and aren't you ? 

Noel Brice. 
Not now — I've changed my mind. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Changed your mind ! 

Noel Brice. 

The fact is, the rector and I don't agree very 
well, or, rather, Mrs. Porcher, his wife, doesn't like 
me — and Mrs. Porcher is the rector, and both the 
churchwardens of St. Jacob's. She was very angry 
at the idea of my wanting rest, and besides — be- 
sides, when you came I felt as if I no longer needed 
a holiday. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I am afraid, Mr. Brice, I want to ask you now to 
let me — to let me — go. 

Noel Brice. 
Let you go ! Let you leave us, Miss Moxon ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 



To-morrow. 
So soon ! 



Noel Brice. 



THE nOBBY-HORSE 61 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Or next day. Your niece no longer needs a com- 
panion, and I have failed wretchedly in my visiting, 
and — and I have other reasons. 

Noel Brice. 
I am very sorry. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Thank you. Dear Bertha will miss me. 

Noel Brice. 
Miss you ! Ah, so much. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And it is concerning Bertha that I want to leave a 
little warning behind me. Mr. Brice, who and what 
is this Mr. Clark ? 

Noel Brice. 

You don't dislike him ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, I like him very much. 

Noel Brice. 

So do I, and that's nearly all I know — that I like 
him. You see this sprained wrist ? Well, that 
might have taken the form of a broken head or a 
broken back but for Tom Clark. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
A hero ! 



62 THE EOBBY.HOJRSE 

Noel Beice. 

No, a typical English lad. I interfered one night 
in a drunken riot down below here, near the docks. 
Clark came to my aid and we fought our way out of 
it, back to back. He had just come ashore from a 
voyage — he's a sailor, you know — so I got him a 
lodging upstairs, in this house — and we're friends. 
That's Tom Clark. 

Mrs. Jeemyn. 

Thank you, Mr. Brice. Now don't you think you 
had better find out something more about the boy 
as soon as possible ? 

Noel Beice. 
Why? 

Mbs. Jeemyn. 
Why, in case he should fall in love with Bertha. 

Noel Beige. 
Fall in love ! 

Mes. Jeemyn. 

Don't men fall in love, Mr. Brice ? 
Noel Beice. 

[Looking at her earnestly.'] I beg your pardon — 
yes, indeed. [There is a knock at the door.] 

Tom Claek. 

[Speaking outside.] Will somebody open the 
door ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 63 

Noel Brice. 
There is the boy. [Opening the door to admit 
Tom Clark, a bright young fellow of about twenty, 
with a breezy, impulsive manner, icho carries a large 
card-board box.] What have you got there, Tom ? 

Tom Clark. 
I don't- know— dynamite, I think. The carrier left 
it at the door as I came down. [To Mrs. Jermyn.] I 
hope you're better. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Very much, thank you. 

Tom Clark. 
Oh, Miss Moxon was such fun at the chemist's. 

Bertha. 
[Coming from the other room.] A box ! 

Tom Clark. 
Addressed to "The Curate of St. Jacob' s-in-the- 

E:ist." 

Noel Brice. 
Some response to our appeal for the poor chil- 
dren, I expect. 

Bertha and Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Delighted.] Oh I 

Noel Brice. 

Open it for them, Tom. 

[He goes into the further room and takes up a 
newsjiaper. Tom ivorries at the string of the 
box, while the two women look on eagerly.] 



64 THE HOBBY-HOUSE 

Tom Clark. 
I wonder what is inside — guess. 

Bertha. 
I know — little white frocks. r 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
No, Bertha, surely not — brown frocks with small 
holland aprons are more serviceable. • 

Tom Clark. 
It's very securely done up. 

Bertha. 
If it's frocks, there must be at least twenty. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It must be frocks ; the appeal was so piteously 
worded. 

Bertha. 
Make haste, Tom — it might be boots. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Of course it is — it's boots ! 

Bertha. 
That's it — it's boots ! 

Mrs. Jermyn and Bertha. 
Boots, boots, boots I 

Tom Clark. 
[Hot with his exertion.'] That's it ! 

[He takes the lid from the box and puts his hand 
inside.'] 



*. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 65 



Bertha. 
What is it, Tom ? It isn't frocks. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Nor boots. 

Tom Clark. 

Here's a list on the top. [Producing an open sheet 
of note-paper. \ A gold crest ! 

Mrs. Jermyn and Bertha. 
Oh! 

Tom Clark. 

\ Reading.] " Portman Square. Mrs. Horace W. 
Pigott-Blundell, in response to the affecting appeal 
in to-day's paper, has pleasure in forwarding to the 
curate of St. Jacob's-in-the-East, for distribution 
among the deserving, thirty numbers of the Illus- 
trated London News." [He throws the letter into the 
box and bangs the lid on it in disgust, saying to him- 
self.] And I paid one and eightpence for the carriage ! 
[He carries the box into the further room, fol- 
lowed by Bertha.} 

BIrs. Jermyn. 

[Sitting at the writing -table.] Mr. Brice's sermon. 
[Reading.] " What is philanthropy ? " Ah, what is it? 
Is it that bundle of picture papers, or Spencer's 
wretched freak at Shodly, or my foolish deceit in 
taking Constance's place here ? Shall I ever find out ? 

[Tom comes to Mrs. Jermyn.] 

Tom Clark. 
Moxon, are you inclined to help a fellow ? 



66 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
What f ellow, Mr. Clark ? 

Tom Clark. 

Look here ! I like you, Miss Moxon. I think 
you're a brick, and I know you have a jolly lot of 
influence with Noel — Mr. Brice. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I! 

Tom Clark. 

Yes, rather. And I want you to use it for me like 
a clear good soul. Will you ? n 



Mrs. Jermyn. 
How? 

Tom Clark. 



. . 



In this way. [Bertha comes from the further room 
carrying a cup of tea in each hand, but slops short 
when she hears her name mentioned.~] I'm in love 
with Bertha ! I love her fearfully ! Nobody sus- 
pects it, because I'm so careful. But she's goiDg 
shopping after tea and I'm to escort her — and I know 
she'lltake my arm. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

She won't if you don't ask her. 

Tom Clark. 

But I feel I shall ask her. I say to myself, "I 
love Bertha," all day long— I go to sleep with the 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 67 

words on my tongue — I wake up with them there — 
they're there now. AdcI when I talk to her as we 
trudge along the streets together I shall be obliged 
to open my mouth and out they'll roll — won't they ? 
[Bertha returns solemnly on tiptoe to the farther 
room, carrying the cups.] 

Bertha. . .;■ 

[In a whisper.] I won't interrupt them just now. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It seems to me that you don't want much assist- 
ance, Mr. Clark. 

Tom Clark. 

But I shall, to get Noel's consent to our marriage ; 
because I want to be married at once. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh ! Would next week do ? 

Tom Clark. 

Yes, next week would do very well, thank you. 
As far as I'm concerned I could wait a week longer, 
but I'm not selfish altogether, Miss Moxon, and I'm 
burning to help old Noel. 



Mrs. Jermyn. 
But I don't see how 






Tom Clark. 
Why, Noel is awfully poor, driven like a slave 



63 THE BOBBY-HORSE 

worked to death. Ah, you don't guess what a fine 
chap he is. 

[They both turn to look into the further room. 

Bertha is talking to Noel, who is stroking her 

hair fondly. ,] 

Tom Clark. 
Poor fellow ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Poor fellow ! 

Tom Clark. 

You know, when his brother died Noel took all 
the children. Bertha's grown up, but there are 
three very small ones with a nurse. And he gets a 
hundred and twenty a year from old Porcher. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Tom Clark. 

Too much, isn't" it? Well then, when I marry my 
Bertha I shall get him out of the grinding grip of 
old Mrs. Porcher and whip him off into the country, 
where he'll pick up his strength in a jiffy. See ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, are you very well off, then ? 

Tom Clark. 
Haven't a brass button, you know. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Eeally, Mr. Clark ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 69 

Tom Clark. 

But my dear old father is rich. He and I quarrel 
awfully. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Well, then, how 



Tom Clark. 

Why, the moment I marry I write and break it 
gently to the dad — ' ' Dear Dad, I'm married. Yours, 
et cetera ! " See ? 

Mrs. Jermtn. 

Perfectly. That couldn't be a shock to him, could 
it? 

Tom Clark. 

No. Well, then, what's the result ? Dad burning 
with anxiety to see my wife — my wife ! Oh, doesn't 
it sound jolly? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It sounds pretty well ! 

Tom Clark. 

I take her home ! I can picture father standing, 
glum and sulky, at the gate! "Who's this?" I 
can hear him saying it. " My wife, dad ! " " Your 
wife ! What, that pretty little fairy ! I like your 
taste, my boy — come in, we dine at seven." See ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

You seem to have thought out everything very 
carefully. 



70 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Tom Clark. 

Yes ; if every fellow were as cautious there wouldn't 
be so many injudicious marriages. 

Noel Brice. 

[At the folding-doors.'] Tom, why don't you let 
Miss Moxon have some tea ? What are you discuss- 
ing? 

Bertha. 

[Pulling Noel back.] Oh, uncle, don't disturb 
them ! 

Tom Clark. 

Just coming, Noel. [To Mrs. Jeemyn.] Be quick. 
I see you'll help a fellow ; won't you, eh ? Won't 
you? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself.] Would this be philanthropy, I 
wonder? But, my dear Mr. Clark, if you are so 
certain of Bertha's influence, why not gain your 
father's consent before your marriage ? 

Tom Clark. 

Ho ! ho ! you don't know my dad ! When Bertha 
and I are married we'll ask you down. He's great 
fun. Besides, I've got a horrid stepmother. I 
know the kind of woman — thin, pale lady with 
spectacles, black hair falling down like window-cur- 
tains over her forehead — awful. 

Noel Brice. 
The tea is quite cold ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 71 

Bertha. 
[Taking him away.] Oh, no, it isn't— not quite. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I'm coming. 

Tom Clark. 
[Seizing her hand as she is going into the further 
room.] Miss Moxon ! Ob, do get me married 
quickly ! Miss Moxon ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Well, well, I'll think what I can do. 

Tom Clark. 

Bless you for that, because you can do every- 
thing ! Ah, you're as good and as beautiful in your 
way as Bertha is in hers, and whenever a man falls 
in love with you, Miss Moxon, I hope he'll worship 
you as I worship my dear girl ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, no ! Please don't say that ! 

[Mrs. Jermyn goes into the further room to the tea' 
table as Bertha with her hat on joins Tom.] 

Bertha. 
I'm ready, Mr. Clark. It seems selfish of me to 
drag you out. 

Tom Clark. 

Not at all. Are we going far ? 

Bertha. 
No — only just round the corner, to a hat-shop. 



72 TtiE HOBBY-HORSE 

Tom Clark. 
Oh, don't you know any distant hat-shop. 

Bertha. 

Yes, but I always deal at this particular one. 

[Noel comes from the other room reading a news- 
paper.'] 

Bertha. 

[At the door] Good-by, Uncle Noel — I sha'n't 
be long. 

Noel Brice. 
Good-by, dear. 

Tom Clark. 
[Softly.] Oh, Bertha, don't, don't say you won't 

Bertha. 
Mr. Clark ! 

Tom Clark. 
If you only knew — if you only guessed 

Bertha. 
Guessed what? 

Tom Clark. 

How much I — how much I — want you to give the 
other hat-shops a chance ! 

[Tom and Bertha go from the room.] 

Noel Brice. 

[To himself] Now. Half a sermon from two 
leaves one and a half. One sermon and a half be- 
tween this and Sunday, my article to finish for 



be long ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 73 

The Seraphim, a Mothers' Tea on Friday night, 
two dockyard carpenters, both very bad characters, 
to marry to-morrow morning. [Sitting at the table.] 
Come, Brice, my good fellow, you must put on the 
steam. 

[Mrs. Jermyn approaches him, carrying a cup of tea.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Am I not to write for you this evening, Mr. 
Brice? 

Noel Brice. 

Thank you, Miss Moxon, my wrist is good for an- 
other hour. 

[He writes busily, she stands r. c. watching him.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself, loatching Noel.] Poor fellow — poor, 
generous, warm-hearted fellow ! Tired out, domi- 
neered over by Mrs. Porcher, a hundred and twenty 
a year eked out by a few articles for The Seraphim, 
and four orphan children to feed and nurture. Poor 
fellow ! 

Noel Brice. 

[Reading from sheet of his sermon.] "It is true 
philanthropy to treat all mankind alike — not to turn 
your back upon any object because it does not be- 
long to the particular class you have made it your 
habit or your boast to serve." 

[He resumes writing.'] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[To herself.] Surely that applies to me. Oh, if 
I could only render this man some service ! 



74 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Wouldn't that be real charity ! I've never done any- 
thing half as good as that would be. 

Noel Brice. 

[Dropping his pen and putting his hand to his 
wrist.] Hallo, another twinge ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Now, perhaps you will resign that chair, Mr. 
Brice. 

Noel Brice. 
Thank you. I fear I must. 

[He puts her in his place, then picks up the news- 
paper and [/lances at the advertisements.'] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself.] What could I do for him — what 
could I do ? I can't think. Shall we begin work, 
Mr. Brice? 

Noel Brice. 

[Without looking up from the newspaper. \ Please. 
Good gracious, I've never read anything so mon- 
strous ! Look here ! " Shodly Heath Home for 
Decayed Jockeys ! " 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Noel Brice. 

[Reading] " Opportunity for a Young Church- 
man in sympathy with our National Sports and Pas- 
times." Upon my word! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Perhaps it means— cricket. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 75 

Noel Beice. 

Cricket! [Resuming.] "The Founder desires 
the co-operation, as Warden, of an open-minded, 
unprejudiced Evangelist who detects an elevating- 
tendency in Horse Racing and who is prepared to 
maintain that the English Race-meeting is both 
harmless and exhilarating." Why the Founder 
ought to be kicked ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
No, he oughtn't. Why ? 

Noel Beice. 

Why ! Look here ! " Three hundred pounds a 
year." Three hundred pounds a year ! "Write to 
Ralph Pinching, Solicitor, High Street, Newmar- 
ket." There's a temptation, a gross temptation, to 
throw before poor men — some like myself with 
hungry babies to feed! Three hundred pounds a 
year ! The country — the crisp, bracing air — health 
— strength ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Delightful ! That's it ! That's it ! 

Noel Brice. 

Three hundred pounds a year ! No more anxiety ! 
Bertha with rosy cheeks, and little Teddy and 
Blanche and the baby 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Rolling upon the grass at Shodly, filling the dia- 
mond casements of the farm-house with their fresh, 



76 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

ruddy faces, or making its old rooms ring with the 
rattle of their metal spoons ! Oh, Mr. Brice ! 

Noel Brice. 

Why, Miss Moxon, you make quite a pretty pict- 
ure of it. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I — oh, yes — I— can imagine little children at a 
place like — what's its name ? 

Noel Brice. 
Imagine — yes. [TJirowing the paper from him.'] 
Ah, but it is wrong even to imagine it. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Then you won't — try — to get there ! 

Noel Brice. 

I ! My dear Miss Moxon, the air here may be thick, 
murky, unwholesome, but even for fresh air and £300 
a year one doesn't sell one's convictions to this in- 
fatuated worshipper of the race-course. 

[He begins loading his pipe.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself .] Poor fellow ! To see him turning 
his back upon money and comfort for the sake of 
his conscience — oh, it's pitiful ! 

Noel Brice. 

[Lighting his pipe.] I suppose that Founder, as 
he calls himself, is a little mad. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 77 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I really don't see any evidence of it, Mr. Brice. 
[Picking up the paper and smoothing it out.] And I 
must say that I am surprised, surprised, at your 
bigoted prejudice against horse-racing. 

Noel Brice. 
Prejudice, Miss Moxon ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Surely anything tending to develop the wonderful 
capacities of a noble and intelligent animal like the 

horse 

Noel Brice. 

Oh, yes, I admit that's very interesting. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Certainly, and useful ; and therefore racing is and 
ought to be the characteristic sport of all English- 
men, including the clergy. 

Noel Brice. 

What is called Sport, Miss Moxon, is too often 
mere brutality. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Brutality ! Was Adam brutal ? 

Noel Brice. 
Adam! What Adam? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
The Adam. Were there not horses in Eden ? 



78 THE HOBBY-HORtiE 

Noel Brice. 

We're taught to believe so. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Then — there, Mr. Brice, you have the origin of 
Ascot. The presence of Eve — no, no, she wasn't 
there. 

Noel Brice. 

Ha, ha ! You positively overwhelm me with the 
weight of your theology. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ah, then, won't you write to the solicitor at New- 
market ? For the sake of the babies — the ba- 
bies 

Noel Brice. 

My clear Miss Moxon, the babies would grow up 
bandy and crooked if I professed opinions I do not 
hold. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself ,] How is it possible to do good to 
such an obstinate man ! Mr. Brice — Mr. Brice. 

Noel Brice. 

You're not going to crush me with Adam again, 
are you ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No. But won't you dictate to me some sort of 
response to send to this solicitor — to please me, who 
am so fond of Bertha ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 79 

Noel Brice. 

Of course I will— if you'll allow me to write quite 

candidly. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

All, thank you ! [Sitting at the table and address- 
ing an envelope to herself.'] If he would wiite a half- 
and-half sort of letter, it might do. And then, if he 
were appointed Warden of Shodly, and came to 
find out who Miss Moxon really was, he would for- 
give me air my deception, and perhaps learn to re- 
member me as an angel in disguise. An angel in 
disguise! I have begun by disguising my hand. 
Mlv Pinching would never recognize that, [To 
Noel.] Tve addressed the envelope very neatly, Mr. 
Brice. Will you begin now ? 

Noel Brice. 
H'm. [Dictating, his back turned toward her.] 
" Sir ! " 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Dear Sir ! Dear Sir ! 



"Sir!" 
[Writing.] Oh! 



Noel Brick 
Mrs. Jermyn. 



Noel Brice. 
" I have absolutely no sympathy with any sport 
or pastime which has gambling and other evil pas- 
sions for its accompaniment." 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[To herself, without writing.] Oh* that won't do 1 



80 THE HOBBY.IIORSE 

Noel Beice. 

" Nor do I perceive any feature in horse-racing 
tending to the elevation or ennoblement of the mind 
of man." 

Mrs. Jeemyn. 

[To herself. ] Oh, dear I Oh, dear! What an 
obstinate man ! 

Noel Beice. 
" Of the mind of man." Have you got that? 

Mes. Jeemyn. 
Y-yes, Mr. Brice, 

Noel Beice. 
" But if you want a guardian for your people who 
will strive honestly to instruct, to guide, and to 
comfort them, I will accept your wardenship. Your 
obedient servant." Blank. How does that read ? 

Mes. Jeemyn. 
C-c-capital — the very thing. [To herself.'] How 
is it possible to be philanthropic with a man like 
this ? I can see his babies all getting weak and bony, 

and Why should I not indite my oion sort 

of letter — a careful half-and-half sort of letter — and 
get Bertha to coax him into signing it in the morn- 
ing? I'll try it — it's a forlorn hope. [Looking 
toward Noel, who has put his head back and is dozing, 
she begins writing.'] "My Dear Sir: I have read 
your advertisement in The Seraphim " — that's true ; 
I must be strictly truthful — [Writing.] "and I shall 
be delighted" — [Looking cautiously toward Noel, 
who makes no sign.] "delighted to accept the war- 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 81 

denship of your much-needed Home " — [Looking 
up /lightened.] That's rather truthful. [Writing.] 
"your much needed Home for — for Disabled 
Horsemen." The poor fellow will like that better 
than Decayed Jockeys. [Writing.'] "It would be 
my endeavor to reconcile my views to yours" — 
that's just the same thing as reconciling Spencer's 
views to his, of course — "and to discharge my duties 
according to the dictates of my conscience." "Wiry, 
it's his own letter — put a little more pleasantly. 
[Writing.] " Believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely 
yours," — space for signature. Oh, I wonder if he"ll 
ever see it in the proper light ! Oh ! 

Noel Brice. 

[Bousing himself.] I beg your pardon — I was 
half asleep. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Holding the letter behind her.] W-were you ? 

Noel Brice. 
Well, am I to sign the letter ? 

Mrs. Jeemyn. 
The 1-1-letter ! 

Noel Brice. 
About the Wardenship. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, that letter ! [Producing it awkwardly ] If 
you are alluding to that letter — I — I have that letter 
here. 



82 THE HOBBYHORSE 

Noel Brice. 

[Taking the letter from her, and sitting at the table, 
he selects a pe?*.] Thank you. [Half to himself] 
I'll just glance through it. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh ! Mr. Brice. [Taking the letter from him and 
laying it before him while slie conceals the written part 
with her hand.] That's where you sign — there at the 
bottom of the page. 

Noel Brice. 
Yes, but I was going to read it first. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No, no — afterward. Then you'll see how it looks 
all together, with the signature. 

Noel Brice. 
I thought perhaps it was rather too abrupt. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No — it doesn't seem so very abrupt. 

[He tries to sign his name, but she nervously 
moves her hands over the letter to prevent his 
seeing its contents.] 

Noel Brice. 
I beg your pardon — I can't write if you do that. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I — I'm trying to help you. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 83 

Noel Brice. 
[Signing his name.] That's it. Now, I'll 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ob, no, let me — let me read it. It's written in 
such an odd way. Are you ready ? 

Noel Brice. 
Quite. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Er — um — you're not paying attention, Mr. Brice. 
Noel Brice. 



Indeed I am. 

" My— dear- 

Eh? 

"Sir!" 

Oh! 

"I— I " 


Mrs. Jermyn. 
ii 

Noel Brice. 




Mrs. Jermyn. 
Noel Brice. 
Mrs. Jermyn. 




[Tom 


and Bertha suddenly 


enter.] 


Bertha. 
Uncle Noel ! 

Tom Clark. 
Look out, old fellow ! 




Noel Brice. 
What's the matter ? 





84 THE HOBBY-ROUSE 

Bertha. 
She's coming ! 

Noel Brice. 
She— who ? 

Bertha. 
Mrs. Porcher. 

Noel Brice. 

Hush ! Don't be frightened ! Bring her in, Tom. 
[Tom hurries out.] Good gracious! what mischief 
is this old lady bent on now ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To herself.] Oh !— the letter! [Folding and 
closing the letter.] Ready for the post ! Oh ! oh ! 
I wonder if I have doDe quite right ? 

[Tom introduces Mrs. Porcher, a grim old woman in 
black and a formidable "bonnet, who enters with a 
solemn glare.] 

Noel Brice. 

Come in, Mrs. Porcher. 

Mrs. Porcher. 

[Eying Mrs. Jermyn severely.] Is this the Miss 
Markham I hear of — the lady now in residence 
here ? 

Noel Brice. 

This is Miss Moxon, the lady who is kind enough 
to be a companion to my niece. [Mrs. Jermyn bows 
slightly, Mrs. Porcher coughs asthmatically.] Sit 
down, Mrs. Porcher. 

[Mrs. Porcher silently enthrones herself.] 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 85 

Mrs. Porcher. 
A footstool. [Bertha and Tom fetch footstool, 
which Noel places at Mrs. Porcher's feet] This is 
not the complimentary hour for calling, nor is this, 
I regret to say, in any sense a complimentary visit. 
° [Bertha and Tom retire on tiptoe into the further 
room and close the folding-doors softly.'] 

Noel Brice. 
I hope at least, Mrs. Porcher -* 



Mrs. Porcher. 
Please. But for the performance of an unpleas- 
ant duty any hour seems to me appropriate. 

Mrs. Jermto. 
Pray allow me to leave you. 

Mrs. Porcher. 
Er— no. I think it would be better if Miss— Miss 
Moxon would pay me the compliment of remaiuing. 
I grieve I grieve to say that Miss Moxon is un- 
pleasantly associated with the object of my visit. 

Noel Brice. 
In which case I should prefer receiving a written 
communication from you, Mrs. Porcher. 

Mrs. Porcher. 
I think not. The cold formula of a letter is 
necessarily frigid and repellent ; in dealing a blow 
the sympathetic cadences of the human voice are 
much preferable. Mr. Brice, Dr. Porcher has dur- 
ing the term of your curacy permitted you to dis- 



86 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

charge many, if not all, his duties in addition to 
your own. You cannot deny it. 

Noel Brice. 
It is certainly the case. 

Mrs. Porcher. 

I thank you for the frankness of that admission. 
And why is this so ? For eighteen years Dr. Porch er 
has not slept uninterruptedly through one entire 
night. My cough, commencing regularly at sun- 
down, has not permitted him to do so. That cough 
being now chronic I can hope for no amelioration 
in the condition of Dr. Porcher. In the meantime, 
Mr. Brice, he is dependent on the faith, the enthusi- 
asm, the integrity of his curate. 

Noel Brice. 

And that faith, that enthusiasm, and that integ- 
rity lie has always had from me. Do you call it into 
question ? 

Mrs. Porciier. 

Pardon me. Up to about ten days ago — I think 
that is the time when Miss Moxon was first received 
into your house? — up to that time, I — man and wife 
being one, I speak as Dr. Porcher — I had but 
slight cause for complaint. 

Noel Brice. 

Whether you speak for Dr. Porcher, or for your- 
self alone, or for both of you, I beg you to speak 
carefully. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 87 

Mrs. Porchek. 
I am not, Mr. Brice, at all in the habit of trusting 
to inspiration. I have here memoranda. [Referring 
to her tablet*.] When six weeks ago you suggested 
taking a short holiday, you advertised for a tempo- 
rary companion for your niece— -for your niece ! Well, 
then, Mr. Brice, in due course this lady arrives here, 
and immediately relieves you of some of your duties 
of visiting — a thing which I, her senior if I mistake 
not, would hardly have presumed to do. 

Noel Brice. 
Well, madam, what then ? 

Mrs. Porcher. 
Then, Mr. Brice, one would conjecture that the 
time had arrived for you to leave London. 

Noel Brice. 

My arrangements became altered. I had — rea- 
sons. 

Mrs. Porcher. 

Quite so. I feared this — I have feared this trem- 
blingly. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

You have feared what, madam ? 

Mrs. Porcher. 
I beg your pardon ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

You have associated my name with the object of 
your visit here. I want to know what your fear is 



88 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

in connection with the abandonment of Mr. Brice's 
holiday. 

Mrs. Porcher. 

H'm! Certainly. I fear that Dr. Porcher will 
never be able to quite satisfy those ladies of our 
parish who are so concerned about this business, that 
Mr. Brice did not relinquish his holiday because 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Because ? 

Noel Brice. 

[To Mrs. Jermyn.] Hush ! [To Mrs. Poroher.] 
Please ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Because ? 

Mrs. Porcher. 

Because Mr. Brice had found not only a compan- 
ion for his niece, but a companion for 

Noel Brice. 
[To Mrs. Porcher, pointing to the door.] Leave 
this room ! 

Mrs. Porcher. 
What! 

Noel Brice. 
Leave this room — my house — leave it ! When can 
I see Dr. Porcher ? It must be soon — immediately. 

Mrs. Porcher. 
I speak with the voice of Dr. Porcher — ■*- 

Noel Brice. 
Ah, don't you understand what I mean? That I 
desire to wash my hands of you all without a mo- 



THE UOBBY-IIORSE 89 

ment's delay ! Let me be rid of you ! Your money 
has mildewed the bread with which I feed the dear 
ones who are dependent upon me, long enough ! 
Let me be rid of you ! 

Mrs. Porcher. 
{Producing a letter.'] Anticipating some unseemly 
outburst of this nature, Mr. Brice, I am armed with 
a letter from Dr. Porcher — written reluctantly at my 
dictation — informing you that Mr. Charlesworth, 
your dear amiable predecessor, is ready to take your 
place at once. 

Noel Brice. 
[Taking the letter.] To-morrow. Go, please. Go ! 
\_He opens the folding-doors and calls Tom.] 

Mrs. Porcher. 
[To Mrs. Jermyn, ivho is standing as if stricken, with 
her head drooping.] Pardon me. The Christian 
name, Constance, I think ? [Mrs. Jermyn looks at 
Mrs. Porcher without replying.] Constance — I re- 
member. I shall feel it my duty to report the name 
of Constance Moxon, unfavorably, to the Governesses' 
Institute. 

[Tom opens the door, Mrs. Porcher sails out, and 
he follows her.] 

Noel Brice. 
Oh, Miss Moxon ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Hush ! Don't speak to me, please, Mr. Brice ! 
Don't, don't speak to me ! 

[She puts her handkerchief to her eyes ; Bertha 
rum to her side.] 



00 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Bertha. 

What is the matter, dear ? Uncle Noel, has Mrs. 
Porcher made Miss Moxon cry ? 

Noel Brice. 

[To Mrs. Jermyn.] Only say that you can pardon 
me for never suspecting that this woman's — that any 
woman's — malice could go to such a monstrous 
length ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Softly to Noel.] Hush !— Bertha. Mrs. Porcher 
is very angry, Bertha, because your uncle has not 
taken his holiday — so terribly angry. Mr. Brice, 
pray don't give another thought to my share in the 
matter — never let it cross your mind again. Oh, 
how dare she ! how dare she ! 

Bertha. 
But why are you crying so, dear ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I — oh, I am crying a little, Bertha— because I 
have to run away from you very suddenly. I leave 
this house to-night — at once. [Noel starts.] 

Bertha. 
To-night ! Not for good ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes — for good. I am of no use, you know — be- 
cause — because your uncle has not gone for his holi- 
day. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 91 

Bertha. 

Ob, why don't you persuade her to stay, Uncle 
Noel? 

Mes. Jeemyn. 
Hush, dear ! Come with me. 

Noel Beice. 
Miss Moxon ! 

Mes. Jeemyn. 

[Turning to Noel.] Don't— please — please ! Oh, 
Mr. Brice, why, why couldn't you have gone for 
your holiday ! [She goes out with Beetha.] 

Noel Beice. 

Oh, the insult to her — and under my roof ! The 
insult to her ! The insult to her whose smile does 
more to brighten this parish than all the sun that 
ever finds its way here ! [Crushing Poechee's letter 
in his hand.] My formal dismissal from Dr. Porcher. 
He shall see me to-morrow. I need not curb my 
tongue to him in defence of the woman I love — oh, 
at least I can speak the words to myself — the woman 
I love ! 

[Tom enters.] 

Tom Clabk. 
What has the old lady done now, Noel ? 

Noel Beice. 
I'm out of St. Jacob's, Tom. 

Tom Claek. 
Are you, Noel ? Then so am I. Mind, you don't 



02 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

shake me off— I'm after you and Bertha, wherever 
you go. 

Noel Brice. 

But I haven't told you the worst of it, my boy. 

Tom Clark. 
Why, what's wrong ? 

Noel Brice. 

She has robbed me of — of a friend — a friend I 
can't spare. Her bitter tongue is driving Miss 
Moxon away from us to-night, and — and— ah, Tom, 
you're little more than a boy, and don't understand, 
and I can't tell you ! 

Tom Clark. 

Little more than a boy, am I ! Can't understand, 
can't I ! Why, Noel, I'm in love too ! 

Noel Brice. 
What do you mean by you're in love too f 

Tom Clark. 
I mean I love Bertha ! 

Noel Brice. 
Tom Clark ! 

Tom Clark. 

Why, what a fool I should be if I didn't ! Ah, 
Noel, love gives a fellow a pair of spectacles, which 
enables him to see right through another fellow's 
waistcoat and straight into his heart. Ha, ha ! 
Why, old chap, I guessed it a week ago ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 93 

Noel Brice. 

I don't know what you mean! A week ago! 
Why, Tom, /didn't know it then ! 

Tom Clark. 

No, but the man himself is always the last to find 
it out. Oh, I'm so glad, old chap ! 

Noel Brice. 
Glad! 

Tom Clark. 

You know I shouldn't have liked you to marry 
anybody I didn't quite approve of. But I do admire 
her — so does Bertha. I think we're both to be con- 
gratulated, eh? 

Noel Brice. 

Be quiet ! Don't go on in that way, Tom — I can't 
bear it ! She's leaving me — I may never see her 
again. And even if these few past happy days could 
go on unbrokenly for years to come, I could never 
open my lips about love. Why, man, how could I ? 

Tom Clark. 

How could you ! Oh, I'll tell you how, 

Noel Brice. 

Will you be quiet, Tom ! You know I haven't a 
penny in the world. 

Tom Clark. 

Well, no more have I — and I proposed half an 
hour ago. 

[Bertha enters.] 



94 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Bertha. 

[Crying.'] Tom, will you g-g-go and find a c-c-cab 
to take Miss Moxon away ? 

Tom Clark. 

[Whispering.] Bertha, dear, let us look for it to- 
gether. I think Noel has something awfully impor- 
tant to tell Miss Moxon. Hush ! [Looking at Noel.] 
Dear old Noel ! I think he's a lucky chap after all. 

[Tom and Bertha go quietly out. The room is grow- 
ing gradually darker. Mrs. Jermyn enters.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Looking about her.] Bertha! Bertha! \She 
sees Noel. To herself.] Where is Bertha ? Poor 
fellow— I didn't want to say good-by to him alone. 

Noel Brice. 

[Facing her suddenly.] You are going away, then 
— really going away ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes. I— I am waiting for a cab, Mr. Brice. 

Noel Brice. 

The thought that you are driven away from us in 
such an infamous manner is maddening to me. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, you mustn't let other people's ill-nature hurt 
you so much. As for myself, I was going to-morrow 
— a few hours earlier, what can it matter ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 95 

Noel Brick 

No, no, that's true ! What can it matter ? But I 
— Bertha and I — were rather dull and lonely here 
when you found us, and somehow you — as a new- 
comer often will 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, yes — a strange face does break the monotony 
of life, doesn't it ? 

Noel Brice. 

Yes. And when one loses that face, when it has 
ceased to be a strange one ; when one enters a room 
thinking to see a familiar form in that corner or in 
that, and is almost startled to find — nothing — 

then 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Then one is pained, naturally — for a day or two. 

Noel Brice. 

Yes, I mean — for a day or two. 

[He turns away from her and goes to the win- 
dow.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Is that a cab at our door ? 

Noel Brice. 
Yes. [He goes to the door and opens it.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[To herself.] I am glad the time has come. 



yb THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Noel Brice. 

[To himself.] Some people asking for Tom. 
They have gone upstairs to his room. 

[He closes the door.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Good-by, then, Mr. Brice. 

Noel Brice. 

[Taking her hand.] Good-by. Miss Moxon, will 
you, as the parting act of a friend, solve a problem 
which arises in the life of every poor man and which 
to-night crosses me in mine ? You know how poor 
I am — how prospectless, saddled with cares, almost 
without worldly hope. But I have never despaired 
till to-night — and yet till to-night I have not been 
so near setting foot upon a path full of encourage- 
ment and light. I am at the cross-roads of life — 
read for me the index which points this way or 
that! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Of course I will help you if I can, Mr. Brice. 
"What is your trouble ? 

[The room is now almost in darkness.] 

Noel Brice. 

There is a woman I love — whom I love as I love 
no other earthly being. Tell me — could I approach 
her with such a tale of poverty and struggle upon 
my lips as I have told you, my friend ? What would 
she say to me if I presumed to ask her to be my 
wife? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 97 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Surely, if she loved you, she would trudge the 
hard road with you. 

Noel Brice. 
But is it not womanly to fear poverty? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes, to fear and to face it. 

Noel Brice. 
You bid me speak to her then ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
If you trust her, yes. 

Noel Brice. 
Then give me your hand again. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Mr. Brice ! 

Noel Brice. 

[Taking her hand.] And let me speak to you! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Tome? 

Noel Brice. 

To you— the woman I love with all my heart. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Retreating from him slowly, as if in a dream.] The 
woman you love! [Under her breath.] Oh, what 
have I done ? 

[Jermyn appears at the door, but neither Noel nor Mrs. 
Jermyn hears or sees him,] 



98 THE EOBBY-IIORSE 

Noel Brice. 
Speak to me, friend ! Still friend — the dearest 
name a man can give even the woman lie would 
make bis wife ! 

[Noel seizes her hand. Jermyn retreats and. closes 
(he door sharply.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Hush! Oh, hush! 

Noel Brice. 

Who's there ? Who's there ? 

■ 

[Jermyn knocks, then reopens the door and enters. 
Mrs. Jermyn crouches behind the arm-chair.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I really must apologize. I'm afraid you didn't 
hear me knock. 

Noel Brice. 

Have you any business with me? My name is 
Brice. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

My dear sir, I'm pleased to meet you. I'm told 
you're a great friend of my son. 

Noel Brice. 
Your son ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
My son, Allan Jermyn — the boy who calls himself 
Tom Clark. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE vv 

Noel Brice. 

Allan Jermyn— Tom Clark ! 
[With a stifled cry Mrs. Jermyn, hiding her face, stag- 
gers into the further room and shuts the folding- 
doors, at the same moment Pinching appears in 
the doorway.'] 

. Pinching. 
Jermyn ! Here's the boy ! Allan ! [Allan enters 
ivith Bertha.] Allan ! 

Allan. 
[Grasping Pinchtng's hand boisterously.] Ralph! 
Good gracious me ! Well I never ! How did you 
find me out ? Never mind. How's my father ? Does 
he ever ask about me ? Well, I am glad to see you ! 
Here, Noel ! Noel ! [Bertha lights the gas-lamp.\ 

PlNCHTNG. 

[Pointing to Jermyn.] Look there. 

Allan. 

Father ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Allan, my boy ! _ 

[They are about to embrace effusively, when they 
simultaneously draw bach and look at each other.] 

Allan. 
Hallo, father ! How are you ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
H'm ! Do you know you were very disrespectful 
to me when I last had the pleasure of seeing you, 
sir? 



100 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Allan. 
I'm sorry you think so, father. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I do more than think so, sir — I'm sure of it. 

Pinching. 
Jermyn, Jermyn — Allan, my boy ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Well, I don't know — 'however — [taking Allan's 
hand] I'm pretty well, thank ye. 

Allan. 

Glad to see you, dad. Backed any of the wrong 
'uns lately ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

What do you mean by that ? Don't you dare to 
mention King Caraway— — 

Pinching. 
Allan — Jermyn — no, no ! 

Allan. 

Beg pardon, father. Noel ! [To Jermyn.] This 
is Mr. Brice — the Rev. Noel Brice — the dearest fel- 
low in the world — my true friend. 

[Jermyn shakes hands with Noel.] 

Noel Brice. 

Ah, Tom, Tom, I was Tom Clark's friend ; but 
I'm quite a stranger to Allan Jermyn. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 101 

Allan. 

I was going to spin you the whole yarn to-night ; 
wasn't I, Bertha? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Eh? 

Allan. 

Oh — Bertha. Mr. Brice's nieee, Bertha— the 
dearest fellow in the world — I mean, another friend 
of mine. [Jermyn bows.] 

Bertha. 

[Quietly to Allan.] Oh, Allan, I'm so afraid. 

Allan. 
Afraid, my darling ? 

Bertha. 

In the hat-shop you were all mine. Now I feel 
toward you as I do toward the books from the lend- 
ing library. The chapters of your life are not for 
me alone, and when you leave me other people may 
take you in and turn you up at the corners. 

Allan. 
No, never this book, Bertha. 

Bertha. 

Oh, Allan, Allan, you'll always be Tom to me, 
won't you, dear? 

[The folding-doors slightly open and Mrs. Jermyn 
looks eagerly at the outer door for means of es- 
cape, but draws back quickly.] 



102 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[To Noel.] A brave young fellow, you think him, 
do you? You're right, sir. Mr. Brice, let me call 
you a friend of mine. Allan ! 

Allan. 
[Turning from Bertha.] Yes, father. 

Spencee Jermyn. 
You'll return with me to the hotel to-night. 

Bertha. 
Oh! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

To-morrow we'll pop down to Ascot to see the 
running for the Gold Cup — next day I shall take you 
home. Do you know that your mother is dying 
with curiosity to see what her son is like ? 

Allan. 
I shall be happy to make her acquaintance, father. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Good-night, Mr. Brice. 

[Mrs. Jermyn again attempts to make her escape.] 

Pinching. 

[Holding a note he has just scribbled.] May I ask 
you, Mr. Brice, to give this note to Inspector Mason 
when he calls to-night ? It is to let him know the 
result of our search for Allan. I'll place it here. 
[Laying it carelessly on the writing-table and seeing the 
letter addressed to himself.'] Dear me! Pardon roe. 



THIS HOBBY-HORSE 103 

I think this is addressed to me — Pinching, of New- 
market. 

[Mrs. Jermyn staggers back into the further 
room.] 

Noel Brice. 

I certainly have written a letter to a Mr. Pinching, 
Solicitor, of Newmarket. 

Pinching. 

[Pointing to the newspaper.'] In reference to an ad- 
vertisement in The Seraphim, may I ask ? 

Noel Beice. 
Yes. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Not applying for the Wardenship of the Home at 
Shodly Heath ? 

Noel Brick 
Well — yes. 

Pinching. 

[Opening the letter.] Will you allow me? lam 
the Mr. Pinching. 

Noel Brice. 
Certainly. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Good gracious me, Mr. Brice ! And I, sir, / am 
the Founder ! 

Allan. 

Why, Noel, what's all this about ? 

Pinching. 
Jermyn. 

[Jermyn reads the letter with Pinching, excitedly.] 



104 TEE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Dear me, this is quite extraordinary ! Excuse 
me. [Taking the letter.'] My dear Pinching ! We 
have found the young liberal-minded sporting par- 
son ! Diana said there wasn't one in existence ! 

Allan. 
Oh, Noel, here's a stroke of luck ! 

Bertha. 
Oh, Uncle Noel ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Pinching! the first, the only answer to our ad- 
vertisement — the very man ! [To Noel, enthusiasti- 
cally.'] Mr. Brice, there is no time to lose in a 
scheme like this. When can you come down to 
Shodly ? 

Allan. 

Directly, dad. Old Noel at Shodly ! Bertha ! 
Five miles from Odium House ! Dad, you've got 
hold of the finest chap in the world ! 

Noel Brice. 

But, Mr. Jermyn, do you really mean that you 
can accept the propositions contained in that letter ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Never read a letter that pleased me better in my 
life ! Pinching, will j r ou take Mr. Brice down to 
the Home by the eleven-fifty-five to-morrow morn- 
ing? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 105 

Pinching. 

By all means, if he agrees. 

[Mrs. Jerityn, with a horror-stricken face, comes from 
the folding-doors and creeps gradually toward 
the door.] 

Spencer Jermtn. 
Mr. Brice, my son's friends are mine— things hap- 
pen strangely. [Taking Noel's hand.] Let me ex- 
press a hope that you may long remain Warden of 
Shodly. Come along, Allan ! 

Allan. 

[Waving his hat.] The Warden of Shodly! 
Hurrah ! 

[Mrs. Jermyn, unperceived, staggers out at the 
door.] 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



THE THIED ACT. 

A CHAPTER OF EXPIATION. 

The scene is an elegant morning-room at Mr. Jer- 
myn's, with French ivindows, a veranda, and a 
conservatory, and a view of the garden beyond. 
It is morning, and the breakfast things are on the 
table at the entrance to the conservatory. 

Miss Moxon is sitting alone at the breakfast-table. 

Miss Moxon. 

Here's Kalph ! [Going to the window and waving 
her handkerchief.] Oh, what a depressed object he 
looks ! 

[Pinching enters, looking very miserable, with a tele- 
gram in his hand*] 

Pinching. 
Oh, good-morning, Constance. 

Miss Moxon. 

Good-morning ! 

Pinching. 

How are you this morning ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 107 

Miss Moxon. 
Beyond wishing I were dead I'm extremely well, 
thank you. [He kisses her upon the forehead ab- 
stractedly.] On the brow. 

Pinching. 
Where's Mrs. Jermyn ? 

Miss Moxon. 
Pacing up and down the hall distractedly. 
There's her breakfast untouched. I've had mine. 

Pinching. 
We're stuck knee-deep in a nice substantial quag- 
mire, I must say. [Showing the telegram.] Mr. 
Jermyn and Allan have left London this morning 
by the early train, and will be home in about twenty 
minutes. The Prodigal's Return. 

[Miss Moxon gently falls against Pinching, hold- 
ing on to his arm.] 

Miss Moxon. 
Oh, Ralph— Ralph ! 

Pinching. 
[Studying the telegram intently.] Not just now, 
Constance, dear— not just now, my love. 

Miss Moxon. 
I must — for I am so sorry for you. 

Pinching. 
Sorry for me ? Why on my account particularly ? 



108 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Miss Moxon. 

Of course I am sorry too for poor Diana and for 
Mr. Jermyn, and for that innocent clergyman at 
SHodly — their troubles are to come — — 

Pinching. 

You are sorry for yourself also, Constance, I hope 
— you originated the whole mischief, if you remem- 
ber. 

Miss Moxon. 

I know I did ; but then, being engaged, the gentle- 
man takes the entire responsibility. [Leaning her 
head on his shoulder.] And that must be so awful 
where the gentleman's a solicitor. 

Pinching. 

You are right, Constance — it is awful, shockingly 
awful. Oh, Constance, my dear girl, if less than a 
fortnight ago you had but confided to me the where- 
abouts of Mrs. Jermyn I could have flown up to 
London, dragged her back by a few sensible words 
of advice, and saved everybody the catastrophe which 
is to break over our heads this morning like the 
culminating outburst of a grand pyrotechnic display. 
Oh! oh! oh! 

Miss Moxon. 

It was Diana's secret — do you blame me for keep- 
ing it ? 

Pinching. 
Look at the result ! 

Miss Moxon. 
I am the first woman who has ever kept a secret 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 109 

for a whole fortnight. You ought to worship me 
for it ! 

Pinching. 

I do — I do. But never do such a thing again, 

Constance ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Besides, why blame me f Who was it who led 
Mr. Jermyn, the night before last, into the very 
house in which his wife was ? You're a lawyer — 
where was your instinct ? 

Pinching. 

A lawyer doesn't run along with his nose on the 
ground like a pointer ! 

Miss Moxon. 

I don't know what a lawyer does, I'm sure. All 
my theories about lawyers are crumbling — my illu- 
sions used to be beautiful. I begin to be sorry I 
ever met a solicitor. 

Pinching. 

Constance, my dear, solicitors are but men ! 
Miss Moxon. 

Under the peculiar circumstances it isn't for me to 
object to that ; but your bringing this Mr. Brice 
down to Shodly yesterday and installing him within 
five miles of the very rug we're standing on ! How 
could you ? How could you ? How could you ? 

Pinching. 
How was I to know that the poor man was madly 
in love with Diana Jermyn, alias Constance Moxon ? 



110 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Miss Moxon. 
Don't argue intemperately, please. There is about 
a quarter of an hour to decide — what is to be done? 

Pinching. 
Oh, the case is clear enough — h'm ! 

Miss Moxon. 
H'm ! Now then. 

Pinching. 
First gently acquaint Mr. Brice that he has formed 
an attachment to Tom Clark's — that is, Allan 
Jermyn's — father's wife, who is Miss Moxon. 

Miss Moxon. 

No, no— first let Allan Jermyn know that his 
father's wife is his mother. 

Pinching. 

Whose mother, my dear? 

Miss Moxon. 
Don't interrupt me. Tell Allan Jermyn that he is 
Constance Moxon's son. 

Pinching. 
No, no, I don't like the idea of that— it doesn't 
put me in a nice position. The case is quite simple. 
First tell Jermyn that Mr. Brice is in love with Mrs. 
Jermyn. That's easy enough. 

Miss Moxon. 
Oh, yes, that's all right. And who's going to 
transact that nice little easy bit of business? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE HI 

Pinching. 
Who! 

Miss Moxon. 

It sounds like the solicitor's department. 

Pinching. 
No, no— it is purely a woman's task. 

Miss Moxon. 

Diana's ? 

Pinching. 

My dear girl, can we expect a wife to tell her 
husband that another man has proposed to her? 
Put yourself in that position — no, don't do that— I 

roean The whole thing's in a nutshell. You've 

known Mrs. Jermyn since childhood. 

Miss Moxon. 
I do it ! Oh, Ealph, what an unmanly proposal ! 

Pinching. 
Who is to do it then ? 

Miss Moxon. 
Would Mr. Brice like to help? He's the nearest 
clergyman ! 

Pinching. 

Help to let Jermyn know that he loves Oh, 

Constance ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Very well, then, we are forced to return to the 
only disinterested person— the young family solic- 
itor. 



112 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Pinching. 

Disinterested ! When the original mischief arose 
from a suggestion of the lady I'm engaged to 
marry ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Ralph Pinching ! 

Pinching. 
My dear ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Ralph Pinching— of Newmarket ! That is about 
the fiftieth time you have upbraided me with my 
innocent complicity in this unfortunate business. I 
ask you one question — do you wish to break it off? 

Pinching. 
Of course I don't, my dear girl. 

Miss Moxon. 
Very well, then, I do. I literally sicken of this 
never-ending cruelty. 

Pinching. 

Cruelty — Constance, darling ! 

Miss Moxon. 

You can be gentle at times, but your gentleness 

is that of the summer sky, which anon sends forth 

its fiery shaft to ignite and to destroy, Mr. Pinching. 

Pinching. 
My dear girl, you know you don't mean 

Miss Moxon. 
I mean that I must be quite perfect in the eyes 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 113 

of the man I marry. The chains of our engage- 
ment have clanked for a fortnight, Ralph Pinching ; 
let mine be the hand to strike them from your 
chafing limbs. Good-morning ! 

[She goes out through the window.'] 

Pinching. 
We have the same scene regularly every day, and 
in very nearly the same language. [Studying the tele- 
gram again.] But I can't think of my own bothers 
with so many of other people's to distract me. Now, 

what 

[Miss Moxon re-enters and comes to Pinching.] 

Miss Moxon. 
Ralph, dear. 

Pinching. 
Ah, my darling ! 

Miss Moxon. 
I have carefully thought over our recent interview. 

Pinching. 
Which one, Constance ? 

Miss Moxon. 
The one we had just now— and I have come to the 
conclusion that we ought to be much more mutually 
tolerant. All these sad misunderstandings are the 
common incidents of long engagements. 

Pinching. 
[Intent on the telegram.] Yes, dear, yes— they are 
— thev are ! 



114 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Miss Moxon. 
You will forget what I said .to you, won't you ? 

Pinching. 
I do forget it, my darling — entirely. 

Miss Moxon. 
Forget — and forgive ? 

Pinching. 
Certainly. [Be kisses her forehead in an absent ivay.] 

Miss Moxon. 
[To herself.] On the brow. 

Pinching. 
[Looking toward the conservatory.] Mrs. Jermyn 1 

[Mrs. Jermyn enters through the conservatory. She 
is pale, her eyes are fixed upon the ground, lier 
arms hang listlessly down, she holds a telegram.'] 

Miss Moxon. 
Di, dear. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Constance. 

[She puts her lips to Miss Moxon's forehead, then 
sinks upon the settee.] 

Miss Moxon. 
[7b herself.] On the brow. You look very white, 
Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I feel white. 

Miss Moxon. 

You didn't sleep again last night ? 



TIIE HOBBY-HORSE H5 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Do I look as if I had slept ? 

Miss Moxon. 
Two nights without rest— hot hands— a galloping 
pulse. Oh, Diana, can't you— can't you eat an egg ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, please. 

Miss Moxon. 

I've had an egg, and do I look as if I'd slept ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes, Connie, dear, you do. 

Miss Moxon. 
Well, that's not my fault ! Why don't you all say 
you blame me for what has happened ! Oh, why 
was I born! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Her eyes fixed upon the telegram.] Oh, don't go 
back to years ago, Connie ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Diana ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I mean the present is so terribly exigent. 

Miss Moxon. 
Before Mr. Pinching, too ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Mr. Pinching ! 



116 THE HOBBY-HOUSE 

Miss Moxon. 
He's here. 

Miss Moxon. 

[To Pinching, ivhom she brings forward.] Poor 
Di wanders a little — she imagines that some things 
happened long ago % 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Shaking hands feebly with Pinching.] Good-inorn- 

Pinching. 
I see you have received a telegram. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes — from my husband. [Beading. ] "Burling- 
ton — Cork Street. The boy most anxious to be 
presented to his mother — thinks you're a dowager — 
haven't undeceived him. Peppercorn picked up 
the Gold Cup. Expect us, without fail, by evening 
train." 

Pinching. 

[Looking at Mrs. Jermyn's telegram.] Excuse me 
— thank you. [To Miss Moxon.] There's a discrep- 
ancy between our telegrams — they've written " even- 
ing " train in Mrs. Jermyn's, and " early " train in 
mine. 

Miss Moxon. 

Then she doesn't know they may be here in ten 
minutes. 

Pinching. 
No — you'd better tell her, 



THE HOBBY-EORSE H? 

Miss Moxon. 
No— you 'd better tell her. • 

PlNCHING. 

Yes— but I thought as you're a woman- 
Miss Moxon. 

I know— but you being a solicitor 

Pinching. 

Yes, I know, but [They argue.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Mr. Pinching. 

Pinching. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I believe you have been made acquainted with all 
the details of this dreadful business. 

Pinching. 
Constance has told me everything. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
At my request. You— you are a solicitor. 

Miss Moxon. 
That's what I say ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
At an hour like this one naturally gets a crumb 
of comfort from the clear brain and calm judgment 
of a man like yourself. 



118 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Pinching. 
You're very good — I — anything I can do 

Mes. Jermyn. 

Thank you. I think you had better tell me about 
this clergyman — Mr. Brice. I understand you 
brought him from London to Shodly yesterday 
morning ? 

Pinching. 

With his niece — yes. 

Mas. Jermyn. 

Did he make any reference to — -to — you know 
whom I mean — to me ? 

Pinching. 

He did. When I called for him in the morning 
I found him in great distress of mind. At first he 
declined to accompany me. I asked him why. He 
replied that he had sustained a great loss — a most 
precious friend had gone from him. I asked in 
what way. He said as if the earth had swallowed 
her. "A lady, then?" I said. "Yes," he re- 
plied, " the brightest, the sweetest, the dearest lady 
in the world." 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Thank you, Mr. Pinching. I would rather hear 
no more. 

Miss Moxon. 

[To Pinching, shaking her head.] Be quiet, be 
quiet ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 119 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[TV Pinching, commanding herself] But he did 
travel with you to Shodly after all ? 

Pinching. 
At my persuasion. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, yes. And you left Mr. Brice and his niece at 
the Farm ? 

Pinching. 
I did! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Thank you, Mr. Pinching. I have thought every- 
thing over carefully and, I hope, conscientiously. 
The first thing to be done before my husband and 

his son return to-night 

[Pinching and Miss Moxon exchange looks.] 

Pinching. 



To-niprht 



Mrs. Jermyn. 



Is to let Mr. Brice hear the whole truth. Will you 
start for Shodly Heath at once, Mr. Pinching? 
[Pinching bows.~\ Tell Mr. Brice the history of the 
foolish mistake — tell him that I entreat his pardon 
for causing him so much — so much inconvenience, 
and beg him to understand that I cannot do this — 
in person. At once, please. 

Pinching. 
At once. 



120 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

[Hewett enters.] 

Hewett. 
Breathlessly.'] I beg your pardon, ma'am ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
What is it ? 

Hewett. 

You've forgot to order the carriage, ma'am, to 
meet the master and Mr. Allan ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Why, Hewett, they don't leave London till the 
evening train. 

Hewett. 

Lor' bless me, I've just seen 'em drive up to the 
lodge in an 'ired fly ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[ Clinging to Miss Moxon.] Oh ! 

[Hewett runs out at the window.] 

Pinching. 

I was afraid of this — my telegram said the early 
train. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And you never told me ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Oh, what a solicitor. 

Pinching. 
I thought of mentioning it ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 121 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Thought ! 

Pinching. 

This business quite upsets me — it's all through 
}ing engaged to one of the ladies concerned ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Miss Moxon. 

Perhaps you wish to break it off, Mr. Pinching ! 



Spencer Jermyn. 

[Speaking outside.] Come through here, Allan! 
Hewett ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Ah! 

[Mrs. Jermyn drags Miss Moxon out at the window as 
Jermyn enters with Allan.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Ah, Pinching, here you are. Both friendly and 
business-like of you to be here to receive" me. 
[Looting at Pinching.] What's wrong ? Aren't you 
well ? 

Allan. 
You do look seedy, Ralph. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Tell me — you got Mr. Brice down to Shodly yes- 
terday ? * >J 
Pinching. 
Oh, yes — he's there ! 



122 TEE HOBBY-EORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

That's capital^capital ! So the Home's fairly 
started, eh ? I'm proud of what we've done, Pinch- 
ing — proud, sir. It's the culminating point in my 
Turf career ! 

[Hewett is passing toward the conservatory carrying 
bags and umbrellas.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Where's your mistress, Hewett ? 

Hewett. 
I don't know, sir ; the ladies were here a minute 
ago. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

The ladies ! What ladies ? 
Hewett. 

The mistress and Miss Moxon, sir. 

[Goes through the conservatory.] 

Allan. 
Miss Moxon ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[To Pinching.] Miss Moxon is staying with us 
again then ? 

Pinching. 

Y-yes— she's here ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
She must have just returned from town ? 

PlNCHLNG. 

Yes — ah— just returned. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 123 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I was quite astonished when Allan casually men- 
tioned yesterday that a Miss Moxon had been acting 
as companion to Mr. Brice's niece. You couldn't 
have known it either ? 

Pinching. 
No — I didn't know it ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

We little thought the night before last that we 
were in the very house with the lady you have the 

happiness to Excuse me, Pinching — don't 

think me rude — one moment. 

[Pinching sits at the table.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Allan, my boy — it just strikes me. It's a very 
awkward thing, this attachment you've told me 
about, of your friend, Mr. Brice, to Miss Moxon. 
You know she's engaged to be married to Pinching. 

Allan. 

It is jolly awkward, father. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I don't like it. She's an old friend of your 
mother's, but I can't have a woman down here play- 
ing fast and loose with two good fellows. 

Allan. 

Miss Moxon is a very nice woman ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ah, they're all nice till they're found out, my boy. 



124 THE EOBBY-nORSE 

I shall talk to Diana about it. Poor Pinching — I 
knew his father. 

Allan. 
Poor devil ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ba careful not to alarm him yet awhile. [Pinch- 
ing is about to go out at Ike ivindow.] Wait for me 
here, Pinching - , please. 

Pinching. 
Certainly. 

Allan. 

[Seeing the breakfast-table.] By Jove, here's some 
food ! I'm starving ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

All right — I'll go upstairs and find your mother. 
Allan, my boy, I've kept it from you as long as I 
can, but — but — your mother isn't an old lady at all, 
sir! 

Allan. 

She isn't, father ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

No, sir, nor a middle-aged lady — she is a young 
lady, much too young to own a great hulking boy 
like you, you young scamp, you ! 

Allan. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You think I can't play a good joke, eh ? Ha, ha ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 125 

[Looking at Pinching.] Poor Pinching — I knew Lis 
father, too ! 

[He goes through the conservatory. Allan seats 
himself at the breakfast-table.] 

Allan. 

[Cutting a loaf] This comes of dad dragging me 
away from the breakfast-table this morning. 

(Mrs. Jermyn and Miss Moxon appear outside the 
window, and Miss Moxon enters on tiptoe i while 
Mrs. Jermyn shrinks back out of sight.] 

Miss Moxon. 

[ Clinging to Pinching.] Ralph — Ralph — something 
must be done ! 

Pinching. 

[In a fluster.] I know — I know — I was just think- 
ing of doing something. 

Miss Moxon. 

Look at him eating happily. [She coughs ; Allan 
rises with his mouth full.] Mr. Jermyn's son? 

Allan. 
I beg your pardon. [To himself] By Jove, she 
is a pretty woman ! [To her.] I think I can guess 
who it is. 

Pinching. 
Oh! 

Miss Moxon. 
No you can't ! 

Allan. 

Father has gone and spoilt his own joke. I hope 



126 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

you don't think me too big to let me call you, for 

once at least, my mother. 

[He draws Miss Moxon to him and kisses her. J 
Pinching. 
No, no ! 

Miss Moxon. 

[Drawing back.] Oh, dear ! [To herself.] On the 
lips. 

Pinching. 

You know that's a grown-up man, Constance — I 
don't care about it. 

Miss Moxon. 

That's right — blame me ! Mr. Jermyn, we are all 
liable to error. 

Allan. 

Error ! What error ? 

Miss Moxon. 

[Pointing to Pinching.] This gentleman should 
have spoken earlier. My name is Constance Moxon ! 

Allan. 
Your name Constance Moxon ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Indeed, yes. Diana ! Diana, dear ! [Running to 
the window and bringing Mrs. Jermyn.] This is Mrs. 
Jermyn — this is your new mother. 

[Mrs. Jermyn stands before Allan with her head 
bowed.] 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 127 

Allan. 

[To Mrs. Jermyn.] Mother ! Oh, Miss Moxon ! 
[Looking from one to the other.'] Why 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No, that lady is right, Allan. She is Miss Moxon, 
not I — I am Mrs. Jermyn. 

Miss Moxon. 

[To Pinching.] No solicitor could have managed 
that better. 

Allan. 
You Mrs. Jermyn ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes — yes. 

Allan. 
I am afraid there is some mistake. Noel — Noel 
knows you are Miss Moxon. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
No — he only thinks he knows I'm Miss Moxon. 

Allan. 
Bat father knows you were at Mr. Brice's — I told 
him so. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
You couldn't have done so — you didn't know I 
was at Mr. Brice's. 

Allan. 
Oh, don't say that — we were there together. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
But you never guessed I was your mother ? 



128 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Allan. 

No. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Then how could you have told your father ? 

Allan. 
I mean I told him Miss Moxon was there. 

Mr??. Jermyn. 
Well, there is Miss Moxon. 

Allan. 
Then it seems I've told a lie to father. 

Miss Moxon. 
Yes, you appear to have made a very bad begin- 
ning. 

Allan. 
[To Mrs. Jermyn.] Good gracious ! Well, but — 
father knows that Noel's in love with you — [to Miss 
Moxon] no, it's with you ! 

Pinching. 
No, it isn't ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Who told him that? 

Allan. 
I mentioned it. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

How dare you ? 

Miss Moxon. 
Haven't you any business to mind of your own ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 129 

Allan. 
I'm very sorry. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Sorry ! 

Allan. 

Father asked me to tell him all about it. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
That's impossible. 



All 



AN. 



He did — because he accidentally strayed into the 
room while Noel was proposing to you— [to Miss 
Moxon] no, I mean to you ! 

Pinching. 
No, you don't ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Great Heaven ! What will he think of me ? 

Miss Moxon. 
What does he think of me f 

Allan. 
But it was in the dark. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Miss Moxon. 

In the dark ! That makes it worse ! Oh, Diaua ! 
you never told me you didn't have the lamp lighted ! 



130 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Allan. 

I see how awkward it is — because one of you is 
engaged to Mr. Pinching. 

Miss Moxon. 
i" am engaged to Mr. Pinching. 

Pinching. 
Certainly. 

Allan. 

Of course — then it isn't nice for Pinching, is it ? 

Pinching. 

Yes, it is ! 

Miss Moxon. 

Yes, it's all right for Pinching. 
Allan. 

No, it isn't — because No — by Jove — it'a 

father it isn't nice for ! 

[Mes. Jermyn throws herself onto the settee.'] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Allan — Allan — come to me. 

Allan. 
Oh, don't cry, Miss Moxon — I mean, mother. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I thought our first meeting, whenever it happened, 
would be so different from this. 

Allan. 
So it was, you know. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 131 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I have often pictured my husband's son as the 
bright impulsive young fellow you are. Have you 
never thought of what / might be ? 

Allan. 
Well, yes, if you remember, I imagined you a 
thin, pale lady with spectacles 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, yes, of course — that was unkind of you, Tom 
— I mean, Allan. But didn't your father describe me 
to you, dear ? 

Allan. 
Yes, he told me yesterday you were an enormous- 
ly stout old lady 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Allan. 

It was his little joke, you know. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Then he hasn't told you of my fierce philanthropic 
cravings — my wild fancies for adopting and rearing 
1-1-littie b-b-boys ? 

Allan. 

No. Oh, I see 

Mrs. Jermyn. . 

Yes, you see, Allan, what led me into this mad 
scheme of taking Constance Moxon's name and fill- 
ing her place, at poor Mr. Brice's unknown to eveiw- 
one. You don't blame your poor mother, do you ? 



132 THE HOBBY-ROUSE 

Allan. 
No, mother clear— of course I don't. I understand 
now all about it. Visiting Tyke's Court, eh ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Crying.] Y-yes. 

Allan. 
Ha ! ha ! That was rather a failure, wasn't it ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[Laughing and crying."] Awful. Don't remind me 
of it! 

Allan. 
Your turning faint and coming to in the chemist's ! 
Ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Ha ! ha ! Why, I should never have been so 
foolish if I had always had you to manage and con- 
trol, my own dear little boy. 

Allan. 
No, mother dear. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Smoothing his hair and arranging his cravat.] I 
shall dress you quite differently from this in a day 
or two. 

Allan. 
Yes, mother. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes — and I think I shall part your hair in that 
way. 

Allan. 
Thank you, mother. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 133 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

And you'll always look up to me and come to me 
for advice in your little troubles, won't you ? 

Allan. 

Certainly. And I sliould like to say, mother dear, 
that I am very sorry — very sorry — that I 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

You are going to confess a fault, my boy ? 

Allan. 

Well, yes, mother — I suppose I am. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Sit there. What is it, child ? 

[Allan sits at her feet, she places her hand on 
his head.] 

Allan. 
I was going to say that I 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes— don't be afraid that I shall punish you, Allan. 
You are very sorry that you 

Allan. 
That I advised old Noel to — to propose to you, 
mother dear. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
You advised him ! 

Allan. 
Yes, mother — he wouldn't have done it but for 
me. I egged him on. 



134 THE HOBBYHORSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

You did ! [Seizing him by the shoulders.] You are 
the cause of all the mischief, then ! 

Allan. 

Yes, mother, but listen ! 

Mes. Jermyn. 

[Rising and facing him.] Oh ! Oh ! "Why aren't 
you the same size as other mothers' boys, that I 
might properly chastise you ! 

[Jermyn bustles in at the ivindow.] 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh, my dear Diana — I've been running after you 
everywhere. How very inconsiderate ! [Kissing her.] 
How are you, my darling ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I'm not very well, Spencer, thank you. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You look white. [Seeing Allan.] Hullo, you've 
found my boy, then ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Y-yes — we've been talking. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
My dear, you're surely not concerned at his size 
— it doesn't make you any older, Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
No, it isn't that, Spencer. 



THE HOBBY-HOUSE 135 

Spencek Jermyn. 
Have you been upsetting your mother, sir, before 
you've been in the house ten minutes ? 

Allan. 
No, father. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Don't answer me, sir — don't answer me ! Go 
away ! [Allan joins Miss Moxon and Pinching.] He's 
a fine chap, isn't he ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Very. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Of course you can't judge of his excellent quali- 
ties from seeing him once, can you ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, no. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Wait till you've known him a week, Diana — wait 
till you've known him a week. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

What is the matter, my dear girl ? 

Miss Moxon. 
[Coming to Mrs. Jermyn's aid.~] How do you do, 
Mr. Jermyn? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ah, Miss Moxon ! Glad to get back to us, eh ? 
Extraordinary coincidence, your living in the same 



136 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

house with my boy and never suspecting* it. You're 
quite old friends, you and — what did he call him- 
self? 

Miss Moxon. 
Tom Jones. 

Spencer Jeemyn. 
No, no — he didn't, he didn't ! 

Miss Moxon. 
John Clark. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Tom Clark. [To himself.'] I've turned against 
that woman ! [Perching joins Jermyn and Miss 
Moxon.] Little did we suspect, Pinching-, the other 
night, how near we were 1o the lady we both — you 
especially, of course— know so well. 

Miss Moxon. 

Yes, but — ha, ha! — how jolly to be together here 
again ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Ha! ha! ha! [To himself. J Wants to change 
the subject. That woman is deceiving poor Pinch- 
ing. The singular part of it is, Miss Moxon, that 
when I stumbled into Mr. Brice's room in the dark 
I saw the figure of a lady. 

Miss Moxon. 
[Looking at Mrs. Jermyn.] Ah ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[To himself] I thought so. [To Miss Moxon.] 
That must have been yourself, of course. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 137 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Approaching ] Ob, Spencer ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
One moment. [To himself.] I'll apply the test. 
[To Miss Moxon.] Wbile I think of it I've a plan 
for this afternoon. Diana, we will drive Pinching 
and Miss Moxon over to Sbodly to drink tea with the 
Warden of the Home, Mr. Brice. 

[Mrs. Jermyn sMs upon the settee and Miss 
Moxon site aghast on the ottoman.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[Looking only at Miss Moxon, says to himself.] I'm 
right. Coquette ! She sba'n't deceive poor Pinch- 
ing any longer. I'll consult Diana. [Miss Moxon, 
Pinching, and Allan talk together. Jermyn sits beside 
Mrs. Jermyn.] Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Spencer. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
There's something I think I ought to tell you, my 
dear ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
There's something I want to tell you, Spencer. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
One moment, please, Diana. I didn't mention 
just now that when I entered Mr. Brice's room acci- 
dentally the other night I was unfortunate enough 
to witness a love episode of a very pronounced kind. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh! 



138 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jeemyn. 
I knew you'd be shocked. The fact is that this 
Mr. Brice, who is a poor, earnest kind of man, seems 
to have been proposing marriage to Miss Moxon. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes, but, Spencer, she was not — she was not — en- 
couraging him ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Well, dear, it was in the dark, of course — but I 
certainly didn't see any active protest on Miss Mox- 
on's part. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
No, no, Spencer, you are wrong. I'll tell you all 
— everything, from beginning to end. The poor 
woman had no idea that Mr. Brice thought about 
her seriously. Listen ! Spencer — Nettles ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
My darling, you know only your friend's version 
of the affair. But men are loyal as well as women. 
Permit me, therefore, to consider the feelings of my 
friend — poor Pinching. 

[Hewett enters, gives Jermyn a note, and they speak 
together at the window. Mrs. Jermyn beckons 
Allan to her.] 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Allan — my boy — you will help me, won't you ? 
Only help me ! 

Allan. 
Of course I will — you were jolly kind to me at 
Noel's. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 139 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Ah, that only shows that kindness is never thrown 
away. Allan, steal away quietly, go into the stable, 
put a saddle on my Betsy — she hasn't been out since 
I left home and will be frightfully fresh — and gallop 
over to Shodly Heath ! Tell Mr. Brice everything, 
Allan, and warn him, warn him that we're all coming- 
over to tea this afternoon ! 

Allan. 

All right, mother — trust to me ! 

[He runs out quietly through the conservatory.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Joining Mrs. Jebmfs with a dirty scrap of paper in 
his hand.] My dear, things are not going quite 
smoothly at Shotlly Home, I'm afraid. Some of the 
poor fellows have walked over — a deputation they 
call themselves — to make some formal complaint 
about the behavior of — the Warden. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

That's Mr. Brice ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Yes. I hope you haven't made any muddle in the 
affair, my dear Pinching. 

Pinchlng. 
I! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[2b Hewett.] I'll see these poor men here, Hew- 
ett, at once. [Hewett goes out.] 



140 THE HOBBY-1XORSE 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

[To Miss Moxon.] Oh, Constance, what Las hap- 
pened ? 

Miss Moxon, 
Hush, dear, hush ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[Reading the scrap of paper.'] Dear, oh, dear— 
this is most unfortunate. Pinching, I fear — I very 
much fear — that your precipitate engagement of 
this Mr. Brice is not going to result in complete 
success. 

Pinching. 
My dear Jermyn ! 

[Hewett appears outside the window with Shat- 
tock, Pews, Moulter, a huge bullet-headed, 
ruffianly-looking person, and Mr. Lyman, a 
wizen young man with a green shade over one 
eye.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Come in, men— come in. Diana, dear, you will 
be interested, I think. Come in. 

[The men enter and Hewett retires.] 

Shattock. 
Ladies all ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Good -morning' — good - morning. I'm sorry to 
read here that you're not comfortable and happy 
you men. What do you want ? 

Shattock. 
[Willi an important cough.] I introdooce this Dep- 
itation. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 141 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Very well — do so. 

Shattock. 

Fast, there's me. Mr. Pews, you know and re- 
spect, Mr. Moulter never rode, but kep' the Blue 
Ball at Doncaster— so is one of us. He lost his 
license unfairly through late hours, though it was 
keepin' up his sisters birthday on each occasion. 
That he'll swear to. Mr. Lyman — step out 'ere, 
Bob. The name of Bob Lyman is a 'ouse'old word 
wherever Sport is honored. He'll ride ag'in, Bob 
will, when honest men is Stooards of the Jockey 
Club. That's the Depitation. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Well, well, well— what is wrong with you ? 

Shattock. 
What's wrong with us? What is wrong with the 
Reverend N. Brice? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[To herself.'] Oh ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Nothing, I hope. 

Shattock. 
Nothing ! I should like his running inquired into, 
that's all. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Will you explain yourself ? You others, speak up. 
[To Lyman.] That little man there. 

Lyman. 
Well, ladies and gentlemen, what Mr. Shattock in- 



142 THE HOBBY-HOUSE 

fers is the followin'. We thought we was a' enter- 
ing ourselves for the Free and Easy Stakes, and we 
find ourselves runnin' 'eavy in the Church o' England 
Welter. 

Pews and Moulter. 
Hear, hear ! 

Shattock. 

Well put, Bob. Hear me, dear ladies. The rev- 
erend gentleman arrived yesterday afternoon, 'avin* 
apperently sustained no damage on 'is journey down. 
He comes up the path at Shodly 'Ome with a neat 
little filly makin' all the runnin' for 'im. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Hush, hush — his niece* please. 

Shattock. 
I 'appened to be in the porch at the time a' 
throwin' up a 'armless coin or two with Mr. Pews. 
"Stop that!" he says. "Stop what?" I says. 
" Gambling ! " he says. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Good gracious ! Very arbitrary, eh, Pinching ? 

Shattock. 
I pockets the bitter insult and I marches straight 
into the drawin'-room, where a few of our gentlemen 
was a' playin' parlor bowls, and I says, " Mark the 
game where it stands, my lords ; here's the Arch- 
bishop o' Canterbury dropped in." 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You shouldn't have said that. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 143 

Shattock. 
So the Keverend N. opinionated, for forthwith he 
sticks 'isself up ag'in' the mantelpiece, and_ he 
preaches at us from half - past three till tea - time. 
Whereupon the young lady sings us a solemn air. 
Well, we honcored that— not so much for the toon, 
but to rile the Reverend N. And then one of our 
gentlemen — 'Enery 'Awkins— got melted and told 
his 'istory. That did us, because 'Euery's career 
'asn't been so honorable as wot ours 'as. And then 
the Reverend N. lets us 'ave it agin. " Races ! " he 
says ; "the only prize worth runnin' for is the Clear 
Conscience Cup, distance, three-score years and ten. 
Sport ! " he savs ; " dooty to your neighbor, there's 
sport for yer ! " And then 'im and the young lady 
shakes 'ancls with us all round like ypocrites, and 
retires to be weighed in, 'avin' preached ag'in' us for 
three hours twenty by Benson's chronometer, bem' 
the longest sermon on record. 

[Shattock rejoins his companions, who receive 
him approvingly.'] 

Moulter, Pews, and Lyman. 
Well rode, Samuel, well rode ! 

Spencer Jer^iyn. 

I must say— I must say that this is not the treat- 
ment to which any follower of the Turf should be 
subjected ! Pinching, I am most indignant ! 

Shattock. 
{Looking out of window.] Hullo, look 'ere! 
'Ere's a cowardly act ! 



144 TEE HOBBY-IIQRSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 
What's that ? 

Shattock. 
'E can't trust us to tell our own tale — he follows 
us from Shoclly ! 

[There U a murmur of indignation from the men. 
Catching sight o/'Noel, Mrs. Jermyn and Miss 
Moxon make their escape.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
"Who follows you from Shodly ? 

Shattock. 
'Im ! The Keverend N. ! 'Ere he is ! 

[Noel Brice enters with Bertha.] 

Noel Brice. 
Good-morning, Mr. Jermyn. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
H'm ! Good-morning. 

Noel Brice. 
Bertha, dear, go and look at the flowers in the gar- 
den till I have finished. [Bertha goes out through 
the window.'] These men, Mr. Jermyn, knowing my 
intention to report the conduct of some of their num- 
ber, are evidently here to defend themselves in ad- 
vance. I am glad it is so. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I beg your pardon. These men are here, Mr. 
Brice, to prefer a complaint against — against — the 
Warden, I regret to say. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 145 

Noel Brice. 
Indeed ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Yes, Mr. Brice, and may I ask, sir, whether • 

[Pinching is about to steal out] Pinching, please, 
kindly treat this aiMr with your usual professional 
strictness. 

Pinching. 

Certainly, Jermyn. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

May I ask, Mr. Brice, whether you have thought 
it generous to reproach these unfortunate men with 
their calling, sir? 

Shattock. 
'E 'ave ! 

Noel Brice. 

I certainly have made no effort to teach them to 
respect their calling. I don't like their calling, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

What, Mr. Brice ! 

Shattock. 
Oh, 'ark — and before Bob Lyman too ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Pinching, take notes of this, please. 
Pinching. 

[Hast Hi/.] I was just thinking of doing somethi 
of that sort, Jermyn. 



146 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

But, good gracious, Mr. Brice ! Do you forget the 
wording of my manifesto in The Seraphim f 

Noel Brice. 
No, I recollect it perfectly, 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[Losing his patience.] Very well then, sir, is your 
behavior to these unfortunate persons consistent 
with a thorough sympathy with our National Sports 
and Pastimes ? 

Noel Brice. 

No— indeed it is not. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You admit it ! Bless my soul and body, sir ! Then 
do 3 t ou mean to stand there and tell me to my face 
that you don't detect an elevating tendency in Horse- 



racing ? 



Noel Brice. 



I regret, sir, that my observations have not in- 
formed me of such a tendency. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Where is your letter — where is your letter ? 

[In his endeavors to find the letter he drops his 
cigar-case upon the floor.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Devil take the things ! [To Noel.] I beg your 
pardon. Where's the letter ? Here it is. Your let- 
ter, sir. 



THE HOBBYHORSE 147 

Noel Brice. 
My letter, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Referring to the letter.'] May I ask you, Mr. 
Brice, if this attitude is consistent with a delight — 
a delight, sir — in accepting the Wardenship of my 
much-needed Home ? 

Noel Brice. 

No, sir, it is not — for I cannot conscientiously 
affirm that the Home at Shodly is a much-needed 
institution. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Beside himself, holding out the letter.] Is that 
your letter ? 

Noel Brice. 

Certainly — that is my letter. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Then I'm d [7b Noel.] I beg your pardon. 

Pinching ! Pinching — you are my solicitor. I 
knew your father too. It will be both a professional 
and a friendly act if yon will endeavor to prevent 
my losing entire control over myself. Pinching, 
what can I say to this man ? Good lord, Pinching, 
what shall I do ? 

Pinching. 

H'm ! Ask Mr. Brice to read, word for word, 
his own letter. [To himself] Now I have done 
something ! 



148 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Handing the letter to Noel.] Your clear head is 
invaluable, Pinching. 

Noel Brice. 

[Reading the letter.] "My Dear Sir." My Dear 
Sir ! [He reads the letter to himself.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
There, sir ! there ! there ! 

Noel Brice. 

Why, what Oh ! What is the meaning of 

this ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I should be glad to know, Mr. Brice. 

Noel Brice. 

This is no letter of mine ! Surely you don't 

Stop, sir — yes, this is my signature — I have signed 
this — it is my letter. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Now, Mr. Brice, you will perhaps offer some ex- 
planation. 

Noel Brice. 
I cannot. How — how can I explain — this ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
That letter is evidently written at your dictation. 

Noel Brice. 
Yes. But the matter of it is not inspired by any 
thought or word of mine. 



TEE EOBBY-EORSE 149 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Do you mean, sir, that you have been made a fool 
of —that / Lave been made a fool of ? 

Noel Brice, 

Mr. Jermyn, I have accepted a jwst for which my 
opinions and sympathies quite uufa't me. If you 
think I owe you an apology, I offer it freely. I 
make an appeal to you. I ask you to allow me to 
destroy this letter, and to turn my back upon 
Shodly Heath without delay. Mr. Jermyn, let me 
destroy this letter 1 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Excuse me, sir — not just yet. My letter, please* 
[Noel return* the letter.] Whatever injury has been 
done you, Mr. Brice, is more than double by the 
affront which the perpetrator of this joke has put 
upon me. I demand to know the name of the actual 
writer of this letter. 

Noel Brice, 
I regret that I cannot give it — I cannot give it. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You refuse to give it ? 

Noel Brice. 
I refuse. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Take your men away for a moment, Mr. Shattock. 
Wait outside, please. 



150 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Shattock. 
Examine his pedigree, clear gentlemen ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Go away ! 

Shattock. 

Look at his mouth, dear gentlemen ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Go away ! 

Shattock. 

The Depitation then witlidroo. 

[Shattock, Pews, Moulter, and Lyman go out.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Brice, will you be good enough to inform 
me if this letter is the handiwork of a lady ? 

Noel Brice. 
When I tell you that it was written by a lady 
whom I — respect, don't you see that it should be 
destroyed — destroyed ! [To Pinching.] Sir, if you 
have any influence over Mr. Jermyn, will you add 
your earnest request to mine that this letter should 
be torn to shreds and forgotten ? 

Pinching. 

Certainly. I do urge Mr. Jermyn most strongly 
to destroy the letter and let the matter drop. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Pinching, you are probably less my solicitor than 
my friend. It is in the latter capacity that I fear I 
am going to give you considerable pain. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 151 

Pinching. 
Jermyn ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Now, Mr. Brice, will you forgive my asking you if 
the lady who wrote that letter is engaged to be mar- 
ried to you ? 

Noel Brice. 
Sir! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
You'd rather not answer ? 

Noel Brice. 

I will answer you — the lady is not engaged to be 
married to me. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[Grasping Pinching 's hand.] I am delighted to 
hear it 1 My dear Pinching ! [Turning to Noel.] My 
good sir ! She has refused you ? 

Noel Brice. 
No, sir, she has not refused me. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Not refused you. Poor Pinching ! Sir, I am sorry 
to deduce from your statement that you are awaiting 
this lady's decision ? 

Noel Brice. 

I will tell you no more, Mr. Jermyn. Will you de- 
stroy that letter ? 



152 TEE E0BB7-E0RSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Stop, Mr. Brice, please. Pinching, my dear boy, 
in resenting the gross insult which has been put 
upon me I find I must deal a severe blow, not to you 
alone, but to that gentleman also. Pinching, oblige 
me by asking Miss Moxon to join us. 

Noel Brice. 

Miss Moxon ! Did you say — Miss Moxon ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 



Pinching. 



Pinching. 



Pardon me, Jermyn — as your friend I would rather 
do nothing of the kind. 

Noel Brice. 

Miss Moxon here — in your house ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Certainly. Shall I ring for Miss Moxon, Pinching, 
or would you prefer my seeking her ? 

Pinching. 

No, no — wait one moment. 

[He goes qnicMi/ into the conservatory.] 

Noel Brice. 
What is Miss Moxon doing here ? What is she 
doing here ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Miss Moxon is a friend of my wife's, and she has 
just returned to my house from yours, 



TEE HOBBY-HORSE 153 

Noel Brice. 

But this gentleman, Mr. Pinching — she is nothing 
to him ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I regret to tell you, Mr. Brice, that Mr. Pinching 
and Miss Moxon are affianced lovers. 

Noel Brice. 
Ah! 

[Miss Moxon enters quickly, followed by Pinching.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

[With the letter in his hand.] Madam, you will 
allow me to express my deep sorrow at the position 
I feel justified in adopting toward a friend of Mrs. 
Jermyn's. With your relations with these two gentle- 
men I have perhaps little to do 

Noel Brice. 
Stop, sir ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Hush, please ! But with the writer of this letter I 
have a distinct reckoning to make. Madam, your 
sense of humor may be more acute and your notions 
of jesting more practical than my own. But, how- 
ever greatly you may be my superior in these re- 
spects, I call into question your taste in placing that 
gentleman in the position he now occupies, and in 
ridiculing a scheme of charity which ignorance must 
have robbed you of the privilege of understanding. 
[Handing Noel the letter.] Mr. Brice, I have done 
with that letter. 



154 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Noel Brice. 

Pardon me, Mr. Jermyn, but may I ask this lady's 
name ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

That lady's name ! 

Noel Brice. 

Because if it is not that gentleman's duty to de- 
fend her from the charges you have brought against 
her it is mine. 

Pinching. 

It is my duty ! I was just thinking of saying so ! 
Spencer Jermyn. 

Do you mean to stand there and tell me that you 
don't recognize the lady who has resided in your 
house for nearly a fortnight ? 

Pinching. 

Jermyn, she has done nothing of the kind ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

You'll drive me mad amongst you ! [To Noel.] 
You don't deny that that lady was recently your 
niece's companion ? 

Noel Brice. 

Certainly, I deny it. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Madam, have y®u. not just returned from Mr. 
Brice's lodgings? 



the hobby-horse 155 

Miss Moxon. 
Ob, no, Mr. Jermyn — I have never seen Mr. Brice 
till this moment. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Never seen him ! Never seen him ! Why, the 
night before last I saw you see him ! 

Pinching. 
Jermyn, believe me, you don't know anything 
about it ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Not know anything about it! ( To Noel.) Was 
Miss Constance Moxon ever your niece's companion ? 

Noel Brice. 
She was, sir. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Then how dare you all 

Noel Brice. 
She was — but, Mr. Jermyn, you know that that 
lady is not Miss Constance Moxon. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Not Miss Constance Moxon ! Good heavens ! 

Pinching-. 
Yes, she is ! 

Miss Moxon. 
Yes, I am ! 

[Bertha appears at the window.] 
Bertha. 

Uncle ! Uncle Noel ! I've found her ! I've found 
her! 



156 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Noel Brice. 
Found her ! 

Bertha. 
Miss Moxon ! She's here ! She's here ! Miss 
Moxon ! 

Noel Brice. 
[Turning to the others.'] I told you so ! What 
trick are you all playing me ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Miss Moxon ! 
[Bertha enters, dragging Mrs. Jermyn by the hand.] 

Bertha. 
Uncle Noel, look here ! 

Noel Brice. 
Miss Moxon ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Miss Moxon ! That is Mrs. Jermyn — that is my 
wife, sir ! 

Noel Brice. 
Your wife ! Miss Moxon, your wife ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
"Why, you don't mean that this is the lady 
who Oh ! 

[Hewett enters, siqjporting Allan, icho is limping.] 

Hewett. 
All right, sir— young gentleman got thrown ! 

Allan. 
[Sinking onto the settee.] Noel — mother ! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 157 

Pinching. 
[Quietly to Miss Moxon.] I kept it from liim as 
long as I possibly could — nobody could have done 
more. 

Bertha. 

Oh, uncle, Allan is hurt ! Allan ! 

Hewett. 

He's all right, miss. Youug gentleman got Betsy 

out of the stable on his own account. He come 

off beautifully, just by Pinnock's Gate— never saw a 

gentleman come off neater. [Hewett retires.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Mr. Brice, do I understand you to tell me that 
Mrs. Jermyn is the lady you have hitherto supposed 
to be Miss Moxon ? 

Noel Brice. 
Mrs. Jermyn is the lady I have known as Miss 
Moxon. 

[He turns away and leans against the mantlepiece 
with his head bowed.'] 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Spencer. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Then you, and not Miss Moxon, have been act- 
ing as companion to this young lady during my 
absence from Odium House ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Yes, Spencer ! 



158 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

And I understand, Miss Moxon, that this has been 
with your connivance and assistance ? 

Miss Moxon. 

Yes! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

While at the same time you have remained my 
guest ? 

Miss Moxon. 

Yes, Mr. Jermyn I 

Spencer Jermyn. 
And you have known all this, Allan ? 

Allan. 
Found it out this morning, father ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
And you, Pinching ? 

Pinching. 
H'm ! I learned the state of affairs yesterday. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
[Looking round from one to the other.] Thank 

Allan. 

You know, father, you've only been home about 
half an hour — there hasn't been time to tell you all 
the news. 

Spencer Jeemin. 

Be silent I 



you! 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 159 

Allan. 

[Quietly to Bertha.] Bertha, my knee is awfully 
bad — come and walk about in the garden. 

[They steal out through the window.] 

Pinching. 

If my action has been at all undecided in this 
business, Jermyn 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Mr. Pinching ? 

Pinching. 

I hope you will attribute it to my good fortune in 
being engaged to one of the ladies concerned. 

Miss Moxon. 

I am afraid / don't come out of it as well as I 
should like to, Mr. Jermyn. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Excellently, Miss Moxon. I thought you had 
been guilty of a joke — I find it is nothing of the 
kind. 

Miss Moxon. 

Oh, take me away ! I'm not used to unkindness 
and can't bear it ! Take me away ! 

[Pinching leads her out through the conservatory.] 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Brice. A few moments ago you asked me to 
destroy the letter which you now hold in your hand, 



160 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

and I refused to do so. I am now ashamed to dis- 
cover that it is a letter written by my wife to which 
your signature has been obtained by unfair means. 
Is that so, Diana ? 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It is so, Spencer. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I am in your hands, Mr. Brice — what do you in- 
tend to do with that letter ? 

Noel Brice. 

Return it to you, Mr. Jermyn, thinking you may 
some day see in it nothing but the evidence of an 
impulsive lady's compassion and tender-heartedness 
toward a very poor man. 

[He hands Jermyn the letter and walks away to 
the veranda.'] 



Spencer. 
Diana. 



Mrs. Jermyn. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 



That is the truth. I wanted to aid Mr. Brice, 
who is so badly off. I wrote the letter hoping to 
obtain his signature fairly, but when he had signed 
it in ignorance it fell into Mr. Pinching's hands. 
Oh, you see what a plight philanthropy has brought 
me to ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Unfortunately everybody can see it. 



1IIE HOBBY-HORSE 16*1 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
I know I'm a spectacle. It was worse than indis- 
creet of me to take Constance's place at Mr. Brice's. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
I won't contradict you. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Thank yon. I did it on the despairing discovery 
that you * couldn't, wouldn't sympathize with my 

aims. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Oh! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes. But even then I didn't let anybody but you 
take me to London. 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Don't jest, madam. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

I won't, dear. Perhaps because I was in Mrs. 
London's bonnet and waterproof you did not recog- 
nize me. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Diana ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Yes, Nettles, and you paid for my ticket to town 
—but only third class. And then, you must re- 
member, when I did get to Mr. Brice's there was the 
boy — our son— to watch over his mother. And 
what has been my greatest fault ? Why, procuring 



162 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

a Warden for the much-needed Home ! Oh, don't 
look like that, Nettles ! The Home at Shodly Heath 
is a flourishing establishment — in your hour of 
triumph pity my complete collapse ! I thought 
that a ragged, uncombed, unwashed community was 
my sphere. Spencer, I have found out it isn't! 
[Crying on his shoulder.] Surely you can feel for a 
philanthropist less fortunate than yourself ! [Noel 
comes into the room.] If I've done no good I've done 

no harm [She sees Noel.] Except Oh, 

Spencer, you know the mistake that has occurred. 
Say what you like to me — but beg his pardon, for I 
can't. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Mr. Brice, Mrs. Jermyn tells me I am to beg your 
pardon. I do so. I have married a very foolish 
headstrong lady — I beg your pardon. Mrs. Jermyn 
keeps your niece company and assists you in your 
parish work without my permission — I beg your 
pardon. In the meantime you fall in love with my 
wife, sir, and you ultimately propose marriage to 
her in my presence — I beg your pardon. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! You're not doing it prop- 
erly ! 

Noel Brice. 

Mr. Jermyn, the tone you speak in spares me the 
pain of thinking that you believe an apology is neces- 
sary. As for my — mistake, it is slighter than you 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 163 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Slighter? 

Noel Brice. 

Yes, sir. The only great mistake possible in pro- 
posing marriage is to select an unworthy object. I 
fell into no such error. I believed Miss Moxon to 
be a generous, warm-hearted lady, whom any man 
should be proud to call his wife. I thought that, 
and I think it still ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
{Pointing to Mrs. Jermyn.] But your Miss Moxon 
is Mrs. Jermyn, Mr. Brice ! 

Noel Brice. 
So I find— and upon that I congratulate you with 
all my heart. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Eh ? Oh— thank you ! 

Noel Brice. 

Before I leave your house, Mr. Jermyn, I wish to 
discharge the duty which brought me here. [Go- 
imj to the window and calling.'] Shattock ! 

[Shattock appears at the window ivith Pews, Moulter, 
and Lyman. Shattock advances into the room.] 

Shattock. 
Don't listen to 'im, lady and gentleman— he's a 
outsider, lady and gentleman ! 

Norx Brice. 
I desire to toll you., Mr. Jermyn, that you arc bar- 



1G4 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

boring at your house at Shodly a set of unprincipled 
ruffians, to whom the man who befriends them is an 
object of contempt and ridicule. 

Shattock. 
It was 'Opkinson wot said you had a tile off, sir ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 
A tile off! Send Hopkinson away ! 

Noel Brice. 

[Taking a written paper from his pocket.] I am go- 
ing to hand over to Mr. Jermyn a letter written by 
you, Shattock, which was intercepted by the man 
Hawkins and given to me last night. 

Shattock. 

A letter ! Wot letter ? [Jermyn fakes the paper 
from Noel and reads it. To Jermyn.] Don't 'eed 
it, sir — don't 'eed it ! It's a forgery, sir — there's a 
low lot in the 'Ome ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Diana ! This is a letter from this man Shattock 
to a person named Emanuel, of Newmarket, offering 
to dispose surreptitiously of eight brass candlesticks 
and all the cutlery and linen in the Shodly Home. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
Oh, Spencer ! 

Shattock. 
I'm learnin' to write, sir — it's my exercise, sir ! 



TEE nOBBY-IIORSE 165 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Let every man -jack of you be out of Shodly Farm 
by four o'clock to-day, or I'll put this letter in the 
bauds of the police ! 

[Pews, Lyman, and Moulter sneak away.] 

Shattock. 

[With scorn.] The police — you wouldn't get 
smiled at, would you ? 

Noel Brice. 

Come, my man, I'll walk with you to the lodge 

gate. 

Shattock. 

What, Mr. Spencer Jermyn, did you think you was 
a goin' to patronize men o' the position of Bob Ly- 
man and me ! Let this be a solemn lesson to you. 
Why you ought to be warned off every respectable 
race-course— you foolish, vain old gentleman ! 

Noel Brice. 
Now, Mr. Shattock, please ? 
Shattock. 
'Ere ! Am I to be paid for my time or not ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 
If you don't leave this room I'll ring for my ser- 
vants. 

Shattock. 

Hah ! There's orstentation ! 

[Shattock goes out through, the window and dis- 
appear?, followed by Noel.] 



166 TUE IIOBBT-HOKSE 

Spencer Jermyn. 

The wretches ! The ungrateful wretches ! The 
sleepless hours this scheme has cost me ! Nothing 
so complete had ever been organized. And then to 
think — only to think — that it shouldn't work after 
all. 

Mrs. Jermyn, 

Oh, Spencer ! Your philanthropy, like mine, is an 
awful failure — let our common misfortunes bring us 
together. Nettles ! 

Spencer Jermyn. 

But look at my position ! A little while ago I had 
a Home without a Warden, now I've a Warden with- 
out a Home ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Write to Canon Carver and beg him to do some- 
thing for Mr. Brice. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

I will — something a long way off. 

[Allan and Bertha appear at the window.] 

Allan. 

Father ! those Shodly Heath men are -picking all 
our flowers. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Let them pluck them up by the roots. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
[Pointing to Allan and Bertha.] Spencer — look. 
I suppose you guess what that means ? 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 167 

Spencer Jermyn. 
The scamp — yes. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Well, then, why shouldn't we — both of us — re- 
build the old farm-house at Shodly and furnish it 
sumptuously as a home 

Spencer Jermyn. 
Another Home ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 
A home for Allan and Bertha. 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Allan's home at Shodly, eh? That's something 
like my scheme ! 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

It is your scheme. And then, in time, when there 
are thirty or forty babbling babies rolling upon the 

grass 

Spencer Jermyn. 

Yes, but that's your scheme, Diana. 
Mrs. Jermyn. 

It's something like my scheme. Don't you see, 
Nettles — we shall please each other at last ? [Pinch- 
ing and Miss Moxon appear outside the icindoiv.] 
Spencer, are you still thinking that you can't for- 
give me ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

No, Diana — I am thinking that I shall be less 



168 THE HOBBY-HORSE 

seen at Epsom and Ascot and Goodwood and Don- 
caster. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

Hush, Spencer — why ? 

Spencer Jermyn. 

All, because I mustn't leave my wife alone any 
more, Diana. 

Mrs. Jermyn. 

No, Nettles, but [Taking his hand affection* 

ately.] You must always take her with you. 



the end. 



THE HOBBY-HORSE 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



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